Age of Heroes
by PicturesOfSpider-Man
Summary: Ten years have passed since the last Holy Grail War, and the world has changed. The Age of Marvels has come, and with it a new Sorcerer Supreme. The Fifth Holy Grail War has arrived in New York, and one Friendly Neighborhood Hero finds himself at the center of the struggle.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer** : Marvel, Fate/Stay Night and all related characters, concepts etc. are property of their respective owners, I own nothing, etc._

 **Age of Heroes**

 _Prologue_

Rin Tohsaka tapped her foot impatiently as the dial tone echoed in her ear.

 _C'mon, you stupid fake priest,_ the young Magus thought to herself, _P_ _ick up already!_

The "fake priest" in question was, of course, Kirei Kotomine, supervisor of the Fifth Fuyuki Holy Grail War, as well as, for the last 10 years, Rin's guardian and mentor in arts both mystical and martial. Rin was hardly fond of Kirei, but she recognized that she wouldn't be half the Magus she was today if not for his teachings, and begrudgingly respected him because of it.

Finally, Rin heard a voice emerge from the telephone.

"Fuyuki Church," the voice spoke. The voice was deep, resonant, with an air of class and elegance. It had a warmth to it, but a dishonest, menacing quality as well, and it went a chill down Rin's spine. "Father Kirei Kotomine speaking. How may I help you?"

"I don't need the whole spiel, Kirei!" Rin snapped curtly. "I know it's you!"

"It's good to hear from you too, Rin," Kirei replied. Rin couldn't see the priest's face, but she knew for a fact that Kirei was wearing that annoyingly smug grin of his. "And just how is my favorite pupil this evening?"

"I didn't call for small talk, Kotomine," the irritated Rin responded. "I just wanted to let you know that I formed my contract with a Servant yesterday. So you can go ahead and register me as a Master, got it?"

Kirei remained silent for several seconds. Even over the phone, he made Rin want to tear her hair out. _Ugh, hurry up and say something, dammit!_

"Understood," Kirei finally answered. "Rejoice, Rin Tohsaka. You are now an official participant in the Holy Grail War." The priest's words carried a satisfied tone… a little too satisfied for Rin's liking.

 _What does he mean, 'rejoice?' Rin thought. Kotomine's always gotta be so damn melodramatic about everything…_

"So, we done here?" Rin asked, in a hurry to be done with the conversation. "Cause it's been a long day, and I gotta get in bed-"

"One more thing, Rin," Kirei interrupted. Rin _hated_ being interrupted. "There's something that I must tell you…"

"If it's about Father's will, you're a little late to the party," Rin nonchalantly declared. "I already deciphered that thing."

Kirei chuckled in response. "Well done, Rin. I've taught you well, haven't I? But in any case, that wasn't what I meant. We still need to discuss the matter of your travel plans."

The priest's meaning was lost on Rin. "Travel plans?" she repeated in bewilderment. "Where am I going? The Grail War shouldn't require leaving Fuyuki, should it?"

Kotomine chuckled once more. The laugh was a rich, throaty one, and the sound of it made Rin shiver with revulsion. "I don't believe I've told you yet, have I? The Fifth Holy Grail War will not be taking place in Fuyuki City, I'm afraid."

Rin's eyes went wide with shock. Her jaw was practically on the floor. After a few seconds of paralysis, Rin shouted indignantly at the priest. " _What_?! B-but that's impossible! Father told me the Grail War _always_ takes place in Fuyuki! Why would it be any different this time?! Where even is it?!"

Rin could feel Kirei giving that self-satisfied smirk of his again.

"Why, New York City, of course."

 _Several months ago_

Doctor Stephen Strange was deep in thought as he carefully poured a cup of tea. Not with his hands, of course. Those had been damaged for the better part of a decade. Rather, he manipulated the teapot using a basic levitation spell - one of the first he learned in his training under the Ancient One. As for why Earth's Sorcerer Supreme was so consumed in thought, that was a result of the strange markings that had recently appeared on the back the Doctor's right hand, and the implications presented by their presence. It was because of those same markings, in fact, that the recipient of the freshly made tea was sitting in Strange's study.

"Thank you, Doctor," Kirei Kotomine said, accepting the teacup from Strange's hand and taking a sip from it. "This is truly an honor - I'm sure there aren't many Magi in the world who can boast of being houseguests of the Sanctum Sanctorum."

"The honor is all mine, Father Kotomine," Doctor Strange merrily replied, taking a seat in his favorite chair. "It's all too rare a pleasure for me to entertain an official of the Holy Church."

As the office of Sorcerer Supreme is entirely distinct from the Mage's Association, Strange rarely crossed paths with the Church in his duties. While he commonly did battle with the sorts of beings the Church's Executors targeted - demons and vampires, among others - Strange's encounters with the Holy Church itself were few and far between. The closest connection the good Doctor ever had to the Church was through a rogue Executor named Isaiah Curwen, also known as the supervillain Silver Dagger. After a nasty run-in with the eldritch grimoire known as the Darkhold, Curwen declared war on all magic, believing it to be heresy against God. A belief that, unfortunately, was once shared by a majority of the Church. Personally, Stephen never understood the idea that mages were all heretics or devil-worshippers - after all, if not for the Sorcerer Supreme's efforts, Earth would have been conquered by the forces of Hell several times over by now.

"I would hope that any bad blood between the Church and the magical community would be a thing of a past by now," Kirei said. "Is this new age, there's hardly any point in such petty feuding, don't you agree?"

Kirei was right - the world had changed a great deal in the past decade. It was around eight years ago that the Fantastic Four first made their debut as costumed adventures, ushering in a new era of superhumans - the Age of Marvels, some were calling it. Before long, Tony Stark donned an armored suit as Iron Man, the Hulk and Thor came onto the scene, and Captain America was awoken from his frozen slumber. Within a year, the Avengers were formed, and they were hardly the last superheroes to appear. The X-Men, Daredevil, Ant-Man, the Heroes for Hire… and, of course, the hero who was perhaps Strange's closest friend in the costumed community, the amazing Spider-Man.

Magic and monsters were no longer a secret from the public, despite the best efforts of the Mage's Association, and as a result, most of the Association's time was now spent hunting down rogue Magi and recover long lost artifacts. Strange had little love for the Association - they were far too bureaucratic and elitist for his taste, more concerned with hoarding power for themselves than using their power for the good of others. However, there were some members of the Association who sought a reform of the organization's policies - most notably Lord El-Melloi II, head of Modern Magecraft Theories. Strange once had the pleasure of working with the young Lord when the two stopped a group of cultists in rural England from summoning Shuma-Gorath. That was in the past, however, and today, the present posed a more pressing concern to the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Indeed," Strange agreed. "Ideally, Magi and the Church should serve the same ends - protecting humanity from supernatural threats. That's my belief, at least. However, that's not why I invited you here."

Kirei gave a somber nod. "You wish to speak of the Holy Grail War, I assume?"

"Precisely." The Doctor removed his right glove, revealing the mystical markings adorning the back of his hand. The arcane tattoo consisted of three small diamond shapes, arranged in a triangular formation, enclosed by a circular outline divided into three segments mirroring the diamonds' structure.

The usually stoic Kirei was visibly surprised by the mark's presence, studying the design with rapt interest. "A Command Seal?!" Kirei exclaimed. The priest cleared his throat, and returned to his normal calm demeanor. "This is certainly a fascinating turn of events… the Sorcerer Supreme, chosen as a Master? Never in the history of the Holy Grail War has there been precedent for such an occurrence." Kirei practically chuckled the last sentence, clearly amused by the development.

"It certainly is unorthodox," Strange replied, examining the red markings. "The Sorcerers Supreme have never interfered in the Grail War, so I hardly expected to receive a Command Seal… especially since the Fifth Holy Grail War isn't due for another five decades."

"Ah yes… that," Kirei said - sighed, almost - clearly reluctant to speak of the matter. "I'm afraid the previous War ended in a rather… premature manner. The Grail itself was destroyed before its power could be depleted, and as such, it was able to regenerate the Mana it lost in a fraction of the usual time."

Doctor Strange nodded, stroking his chin. "I see," was his only response.

"Keep in mind, Doctor," Kirei continued, "Just because you have received a Command Seal doesn't necessarily mean you must participate in the War. If you choose not to summon a Heroic Spirit, there's plenty of potential Masters who would be able to take your place."

"Thank you, Father," the Sorcerer Supreme replied, "But actually, I fully intend to fight in the Grail War."

Kirei's eyes widened with surprise. For the second time in the conversation, the priest was caught off his guard. "Is that so? I mean no offense when I say this, Doctor, but what reason would you have to compete for the Grail? You are the Sorcerer Supreme, after all. The most powerful Magus in the world, and one of the only living wielders of True Magic. I doubt there's any wish the Grail could grant that you could not make reality with your own power. So, if you don't mind my asking, why do you wish to be a Master?"

Doctor Strange breathed a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. "It is not the Grail itself that I desire, Father. Rather, I wish to participate in the War in order to keep the Grail out of the hands of those who would use it for ill. There are a great many Magi in this world who desire only power, without any concern for how many lives they destroy in the pursuit of said power. People like Baron Mordo, Kaluu, Kaecilius… Victor von Doom. People who, if given the power of the Holy Grail, would pose an immeasurable threat to humanity. As Sorcerer Supreme, it is my duty to keep the world safe from mystical threats, and as such, it is my intention to put a stop to any Masters who would use the Grail for personal gain. What better way to do that than as a Master myself?"

Kirei gave the Doctor an amused smirk. "I see. A noble goal indeed."

A contented smile appeared on Strange's face. "I'm glad you see it that way, Father Kotomine. Because I have another request. I want you to hold the Holy Grail War here, in New York City."

Of all the surprises Strange had given Kirei over the course of their conversation, that one was the most unexpected. Kirei barely kept himself from gasping out of shock.

"In New York, you say?" Kirei repeated, his eyes still wide. "This is certainly an unexpected request… after all, the Fuyuki Holy Grail War has always taken place, well, in Fuyuki."

Strange's expression became stern, his tone deadly serious. "As I said, I am Earth's Sorcerer Supreme. It is my responsibility to keep humanity - _all_ of humanity - safe from dangers of a magical nature. Therefore, I think it would be best to conduct the War on a battlefield where collateral damage can be kept at a minimum."

Kirei raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I fail to see how holding the War in the most heavily populated city in America would do anything to reduce collateral damage, Doctor."

The Sorcerer Supreme nodded in response. "Indeed, New York is exponentially larger than Fuyuki City. However, it's also the superhuman capital of the world. The Avengers make their home in New York, as do the Fantastic Four, and more costumed vigilantes than anyone can count. Not to mention the Triskelion, SHIELD's world headquarters, floating in the East River. No city in the world is better equipped for dealing with supernatural dangers than New York. It's been eight years since the Age of Marvels began, and since then, the fantastic has become mundane for the people of this city. Whether it's Heroic Spirits or just plain heroes doing the fighting, this city can take it.

"Now, don't misunderstand, Father," Strange continued, "I don't intend for the superhuman community to meddle in the Grail War. The War will be kept strictly between Masters and Servants, no outside interference. I only wish for the Avengers and SHIELD to help keep casualties at a minimum, to clean up the War's mess, so to speak, just as the Church has in the past. Evacuation of civilians, damage control, et cetera. I trust those terms will be reasonable?"

Kirei directed a grim, almost contemptful look towards the Doctor. "And what if the Church and the Association don't find your terms reasonable?"

Strange gave a cheeky, audacious grin in response. "I'm the Sorcerer Supreme. I'm sure they will."

Kirei was silent for a moment, as if contemplating Strange's words. Then, he let out a low chuckle, which soon grew into a grand belly laugh that echoed throughout the Sanctum Sanctorum. The sound was equal parts jovial and blood-curdling. While Strange had no reason to see the priest as anything but trustworthy, a part of him became fearful of Kotomine at the sound of his mighty cackling.

After his laughter died down, Kirei fell silent once more for a few seconds before replying. "Indeed, Doctor!" Kirei concurred, his tone much more expressive and genial than before. "I will see what I can do."

Kotomine extended his hand to Strange, who shook it in kind. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Sorcerer Supreme. I'm sure this Holy Grail War will be one to remember."

Doctor Stephen Strange was deep in thought as he shook the priest's hand. He wondered what Masters and Servants he would face when he fought in the Grail War. He wondered what kind of Servant he would end up summoning. He wondered if Kotomine could be trusted. But most of all, he wondered if he was truly doing the right thing.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer** : Marvel, Fate/Stay Night and all related characters, concepts etc. are property of their respective owners, I own nothing, etc._

 _Chapter 1_

 _The Spider and the Seal_

Peter Parker's life didn't allow much time for fun. When he wasn't focusing on his studies as a junior at Empire State University, or his job as a photographer at the Daily Bugle, he was out patrolling New York as the amazing Spider-Man, looking for crime to fight and lives to save. Every day he risked his life fighting against the most dangerous villains the city had to offer - Doctor Octopus, the Green Goblin, Venom, and the Kingpin, to name a few of his many, _many_ enemies. Even if he didn't think about it consciously that often, deep down Peter realized that every new day could be his last. He could be slain in battle with a supervillain, crushed under a collapsing building - even a well placed bullet from an average mugger would be enough to do him in. Living to see the next morning was never a sure thing when you live the life of a superhero.

Of course, Peter never let that danger stop him from fighting the good fight. After all, had the power to help people in extraordinary ways, ways that most people could only ever dream of - and with that power came the weight of a great responsibility. It was a weight Peter had learned to carry, and carry gladly. That being said, his duties as a hero never stopped being a source of immeasurable stress for the young crime-fighter. Throw in the fact that he had to juggle his heroism with school and work, and Peter Parker rarely ever had any time to catch his breath.

However, there were some things in Peter's life that never failed to be a source of relief and release for him. Web-swinging was one of those things.

In the five years that Peter had been active as Spider-Man, never once had he come anywhere close to getting tired of web-swinging. The adrenaline rush that came from flying through the Manhattan skyline, feeling the wind brush against him as he catapulted from building to building like a human bullet - it was an experience unlike anything else in the world. Peter had swung through the city hundreds, maybe _thousands_ of times since he first built his trusted web-shooters, yet he relished the experience with new joy every time.

Web-swinging was a sensory overload of the absolute best kind. No matter how fast Peter soared through the city, he always managed to take in the world around him, to observe and savor every last detail - every cloud in the sky, every ray of the sun, every bird chirping, every car horn honking, every last person going about their everyday life, leading an existence just as complex and full as Peter's own - if not quite as exciting.

Well, it may be an exaggeration to say that Peter took in every detail as he hurtled through the Big Apple. Even with his enhanced senses, including his enigmatic Spider-Sense - an ability which even the young web-slinger did not fully understand - it would absurd to say that Peter observed every single face in the crowd as he swung over the busy Manhattan streets. But all the same, Peter always made sure to appreciate his surroundings as he swung about the city, for they served as a constant reminder of his mission.

Every car, every building, every man, woman, and child on the crowded streets below - they were what he fought to protect. Everything and everyone that made up the city of New York were Peter's responsibility. New York was known as the city that never sleeps, and Peter understood why - it was constantly moving, ever bustling, full of activity, energy - full of _life_. Witnessing that life, that energy in action - it filled Peter with energy in turn. It inspired him, motivated him to fight ever harder to protect the city he loved.

Today, however, Peter wasn't planning on doing any fighting. At least, not for a while. The friendly neighborhood wall-crawler had other plans.

Spider-Man let go of his web-line at the height of his ascent, landing on the surface of a rooftop with a graceful flip, taking his signature three-point crouching stance as he hit the ground. He stood up and carefully surveyed his surroundings, making sure that nobody was around to spy on him, before removing his mask to reveal the boyish, innocent-looking face of Peter Parker, as well as an unkempt shock of brown hair.

Peter reached behind his back, and pulled out the makeshift web-backpack he prepared before he went out for his swing. He tore open the bag and pulled out the civilian clothes packed inside, discarding the shredded webbing on the roof. There was a pair of well-worn blue jeans, a dark gray t-shirt, and a navy blue hoodie, which Peter put on over his costume. The good thing about having a skintight costume - it was easy to wear under street clothes. Peter removed the gloves of his Spider-Man costume, hiding them in the pockets of his jeans. He looked down at his now-bare right hand, and examined the curious design that decorated it.

The mark was shaped like a four-point star, intersected by an 'X' shape and encircled by a crescent. Peter had no idea where the mark came from - it simply appeared on his hand overnight. At first he thought it might be some kind of scar or wound, received in a battle with some villain, but upon closer inspection, it was more like a tattoo in nature. Peter had tried washing it off that morning, to no avail. Clearly this was no ordinary marking. He certainly intended to get to the bottom of its origin, but that would have to wait for a bit. He had a prior engagement to worry about first.

After replacing his red and blue gloves for a pair of plain winter ones, Peter removed the boots from his costume, wincing as his bare feet were exposed to the cold February air. He hurried to don the socks and tennis shoes he packed in the web-bag. Finally, Peter completed his ensemble by wrapping a dark red scarf around his neck.

When Peter had finishing changing into his civilian attire, he looked over the edge of the roof to make sure there was nobody in the alley below, then leapt down to the ground below once he saw that the coast was clear. Sticking the landing, he walked out of the alley and joined the crowd occupying the Manhattan sidewalk. Peter thought about how mundane he must have looked to the people around him - an ordinary student, just another face in the crowd. He couldn't help but give a cheeky smile at the idea.

Peter walked another block or two on the way to his destination. Using the sidewalk was hardly as thrilling a way to travel as web-swinging, but it had its own charms, in Peter's eyes at least - he liked being among the everyday people.

Peter soon came to his destination: the Coffee Bean, an establishment frequently visited by Peter and his friends from school - Harry Osborn, Mary Jane Watson, Flash Thompson (well, Peter _mostly_ considered him a friend) … and the person Peter was meeting there today.

Peter walked through the door of the coffee shop, and found the girl he was looking for sitting alone at a small table by the window. Her golden hair, covered by a black headband, seemed to glow under the sunlight shining in from the window. She wore a trench coat and light blue scarf over a black sweater, as well as a navy blue skirt, black thigh high socks and leather boots. The young woman looked Peter's way, and her face lit up when she saw him. A bright, warm smile shone across her face, and Peter couldn't help but grin back when he saw it.

There were some parts of Peter's life that never failed to lift his spirits, no matter what life threw his way. Web-swinging was one. Gwen Stacy was another.

Peter strode over to his girlfriend's table, still wearing his sunny, almost goofy-looking smile. "Hey," he greeted.

"Hey yourself," Gwen replied. "You're actually on time for once. Slow day for crime, huh?"

Peter chuckled softly. The shop wasn't crowded, and there wasn't anybody near them, so there wasn't much risk of the conversation exposing his secret identity. "Bad guys don't wanna get out in the cold, I guess. But you know you shouldn't say things like that, right? You've already jinxed us. Pretty soon there's gonna be some supervillain crashing through that window."

Gwen gave an exaggerated shrug. "My bad, my bad. I take full responsibility for when that happens."

Peter raised and eyebrow and gave a wry smirk. "Hey, responsibility's my thing, remember?"

"It can be my thing too!" Gwen protested, barely able to stop herself from cracking up with laugher. "I'm a responsible person. You don't have a monopoly on the concept of responsibility!"

The two youths laughed at the absurdity of their faux-debate. Peter looked down at the table and saw a drink topped with whipped cream sitting in front of him. "I see you've already ordered for me."

"I took the liberty," Gwen affirmed confidently, sounding almost proud of herself. "Got your favorite. Caramel Frappe."

"Nice!" Peter exclaimed with delight, giving a small fist pump. "You continue to find new ways to be the best girlfriend ever."

"You know, they serve _real_ coffee here too," Gwen snarked as Peter sipped from his drink.

"I can't help it," Peter responded as he lifted his mouth from the straw, his expression returning to a cocky smirk. "I have a weakness for sweet stuff. Must be why I fell in love with you."

Gwen practically snorted with laughter. "Shut up! That was the worst line ever!"

"You're laughing, aren't you?" Peter countered, resting his hands behind his head in a carefree manner as he lay back in his chair.

"It was an involuntary reaction!" Gwen objected, desperately struggling not to smile. "That was terrible! You are _terrible_ , Peter Parker!"

"Guilty as charged," Peter said with a shrug. "The court finds Peter Benjamin Parker guilty of the crime of telling terrible jokes! He is hereby sentenced to one million years of obeying his amazing girlfriend, Gwen Stacy's every whim, no matter how ridiculous!"

"Ah, so nothing's changed then," Gwen remarked.

"Exactly!" declared Peter. The duo chuckled, then a brief silence fell as they both drank from their coffee.

"Man, it's been a while since we've had a real date like this," Peter stated. "I've always been busy with work, school, or… y'know. Other stuff."

Gwen smiled sincerely at Peter. "I don't mind. You're out there helping people, and that's what's most important. Like you said, responsibility is kinda your thing. I'm glad that you always put protecting people before anything else - even if it means we don't get to spend as much time together."

Peter's heart practically skipped a beat. _What did I ever do to deserve her?_ he thought to himself. He looked Gwen in the eyes, giving her a sheepish smile. "Thanks," Peter said, his tone soft and genuine. "It means the world to me that you see it that way."

"Hey, a hero's gotta do what a hero's gotta do, right?" Gwen continued. "I'd be a pretty crappy girlfriend if I didn't respect that. And don't get me wrong, I respect the hell out of what you do! I mean, who even knows how many lives you've saved? It's admirable, the whole hero thing. Attractive, even." She punctuated the last bit with a coquettish smirk. "Must be why I fell in love with you."

Peter blushed a bit at Gwen's flirtation, but tried to play it cool. He cleared his throat nervously, before making his retort. "Hey, ladies love a man in uniform, don't they? I guess colorful spandex costumes fall into that category."

Gwen chuckled in response. "Plus, it doesn't hurt that you're a huge dork. In a cute way, of course, not in a loser way. Adorkable, one might call you."

Peter's face turned even redder in embarrassment. "I am _NOT_ a dork!" he shouted in protest.

Gwen couldn't help but howl with laughter at his reaction. "That is literally the dorkiest thing you could have done in this moment!" she proclaimed in between bouts of mad cackling. "You are so cute when you get flustered like that!"

"Sh-shut up!" Peter had turned beet red by now. "I am _not_ cute! I'm trying to project an air of respectability here, not _cuteness_!"

"Oh yeah, real respectable, the guy in the brightly colored spandex." Gwen's words were absolutely dripping with sarcasm.

"Look, I'm trying to inspire people, okay? A hero's supposed to be a beacon of hope and courage…" Peter's tone became dramatic and serious as he waxed philosophical on heroism. "Not… whatever you just called me!"

" _Adorkable_ ," Gwen smugly repeated.

" _Please_ never use that word again!" Peter begged frantically. "It is an unforgivable mockery of the English language, and I will have none of it!"

"Whatever… goofball," Gwen chuckled.

 _Goofball's better than dork, I suppose_ , thought Peter.

Another silence fell for a few moments. The two enjoyed their beverages, before Peter spoke up once again.

"So… anything new with you? Besides school, obviously."

"Actually… yeah," came Gwen's reply. "I've been talking to MJ. We're thinking about starting the band back up again."

The band Gwen referred to was one she and Mary Jane Watson were in back when they went to the same high school - a punk rock group known simply as the Mary Janes. They eventually broke up over "creative differences," but Gwen and MJ had thankfully reconciled since then. Both of them had moved onto further pursuits, however - Gwen left behind her punk image and drum set in order to focus on her studies, hoping to pursue a career in science. Mary Jane, meanwhile, retained her passion for performing, but shifted her aim to acting instead.

"Whoa, really? That's great!" Peter exclaimed, beaming with excitement. "Uh… that is great, right?"

"I think so?" Gwen answered, not sounding any more certain than Peter. "I mean, I still love music, obviously. I've always dreamed of being a musician, that much hasn't changed… but I dunno how practical it'd be. Like, I still need to focus on school first and foremost, right? Dad keeps telling me I need to get good grades, find a good career, that kinda thing. And he's right, I need to make a good future for myself. I owe him that much, right? After everything he's done for me…" Gwen drifted off. Her previously unshakeable confidence had faded, becoming visibly troubled by doubt.

"So, if I wanna do the band thing right this time," she continued, "I'll need to devote a lot of time _and_ effort to it. And I don't know if I can manage that and focus on school the way I need to."

Peter reached over to Gwen's hand, and tenderly grasped it in his own. Even on this cold day, her hand was warm to the touch.

"Hey," Peter said, looking deep into Gwen's radiant blue eyes. "If anyone can do it, it's you. I _somehow_ manage to juggle being a college student, a photographer, and a superhero. And let's face it, you're way smarter than I am. You'll have no problem!"

Gwen's eyes darted away from Peter as she chuckled nervously. "I am _not_ smarter than you."

"You are too," Peter insisted.

"Am not! Of the two people sitting at this table, I'm not the one who invented web fluid."

"You could have if you wanted to. Admit it, Gwen, you're a genius."

For a moment, Gwen gave a small, earnest smile, which quickly transformed into a proud smirk. "Yeah, you're right. I am pretty great, aren't I?"

The young couple shared another laugh, before Gwen continued. "Still though… even if I do keep the two balanced, how relevant is the band thing gonna end up being in my life? Like, my end goal is to get a job working at Oscorp, or Stark or something-"

"You mean a job _running_ them, right?" Peter half-jokingly interjected.

Gwen chuckled softly, more flattered by the compliment than she let on. "My point is, if I already know I'm focusing on science, would I just be wasting my time with the band?"

Peter stroked his chin, pondering the question for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "Do you want to do it?" His words were succinct, matter-of-fact.

"Huh?" Gwen was bewildered by the question.

"Restarting the band. Do you want to do it?" Peter repeated. "Don't tell me what you think you _should_ do. Tell me what you _want_ to do."

Gwen considered the question for a few moments, then responded. "Yeah. Yeah I do." She smiled warmly, as if a great burden had just been lifted off her shoulders.

"Then it's not a waste of time," Peter stated, kindness in his voice. "Simple as that. And hey, maybe this band thing'll go somewhere after all! Maybe you're gonna be the world's first genius billionaire rock star scientist."

Gwen burst out laughing, before settling back into her earnest smile from before. "Thanks, Peter. Seriously. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Peter nonchalantly leaned back in his chair again, grinning cheerfully. "Hey, don't mention it. Helping folks is what I do, remember?"

"So, anything new with you?" Gwen asked. "Any new adventures I should know about?"

"Actually… there is something I wanted to show you." Peter's voice became serious all of a sudden.

Peter slowly pulled off his right glove, and showed Gwen the mysterious markings on his hand.

"Whoa, nice ink. You didn't tell me you were getting a tattoo!"

"I wasn't," Peter replied solemnly. "It just showed up overnight. It's not a tattoo, it's not a scar or anything, I just woke up and boom, there it is."

"Creepy…" Gwen commented, wincing anxiously. "You think it might be magic or something?"

"I'm leaning in that direction," Peter agreed. "Actually, after we're done here I was planning on swinging by Doctor Strange's place and asking him about it."

"Doctor Strange?" Gwen repeated curiously. "The wizard guy? You know him? Oh, what am I saying, of course you do. All you hero types know each other."

Peter smiled, recalling his past team-ups with the Doctor. There was the battle with Blackheart, their fight with the Hood's gang, the time they stopped Hammerhead from stealing an ancient Lemurian tablet…

"Pretty much," Peter admitted. "The Doc lives on Bleecker Street. Nice place. Kinda creepy, but it's got its charm."

Gwen raised an eyebrow, giving Peter a look of incredulity. "Doctor Strange, master of the mystic arts, lives in Greenwich Village?"

"Gwen, I got superpowers from a radioactive spider bite. I once met a talking raccoon with laser guns who hangs out with an Ent. Nothing should surprise you at this point."

"Fair enough," Gwen conceded.

Suddenly, Peter felt a sharp tingling sensation in the back of his skull. He clutched his head, letting out a moan of pain.

"Peter! Are you alright?" Gwen asked urgently, her concern apparent in her tone.

"I'm okay… just my Spider-Sense. Something must be going on nearby…"

A loud booming noice echoed in the distance. Peter and Gwen heard the sound of people screaming. Soon, a crowd of people came running in terror outside the window.

"I'm guessing that has something to do with it," Gwen said, dryly pointing out the obvious. She looked at Peter, her expression turning serious. "You should go."

"Right." Peter got up from his seat, setting his coffee down. "Sorry our date got ruined… again," he apologized sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it, just go!" Gwen urged. "And don't worry about paying me back for the coffee. Least I can do for my favorite hero."

"Thanks, babe." Peter leaned down and gave Gwen a peck on the lips. "You're the best."

"And don't you ever forget it," Gwen quipped, her eyes narrowing as her lips formed a mischievous smirk. " _My adorkable little man._ "

"Alright, now I'm really done here!" Peter cried jokingly as he hurried towards the door.

"Love you!" Gwen called out as Peter left to go save the day once more.

"Love you too!" Peter called back, as he walked out the door. He looked around, surveying his surroundings, and determined which direction the people were fleeing from.

Naturally, that was the direction he started running towards.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer** : Marvel, Fate/Stay Night and all related characters, concepts etc. are property of their respective owners, I own nothing, etc._

 _Chapter 2_

 _A Sinister Summoning_

 _" **Where are you, Arachnid?!** "_

Screams of terror echoed through the streets of Manhattan as a bright yellow taxi was hurled violently onto the ground, collapsing into a clump of dented metal upon impact. An eerie mechanical whirring could be heard as the metal tendrils that threw the vehicle writhed restlessly in the air. The man attached to the automated tentacles gave a sadistic grin as he beheld the chaos he had created. Doctor Otto Octavius never saw himself as the kind of person who took pleasure in causing meaningless destruction - he considered himself above such petty matters. However, as the villain called Doctor Octopus rampaged through New York, destroying everything in his path - he couldn't deny that he was having fun.

"Oh, Spider-Maaaan! Come out to pla-aaaay!"

Another voice, gravelly and cruel-sounding, called out into the mayhem. Otto turned his head to the source of the voice as his four metal arms carried him further down the now debris-strewn street. The man was clad in a green costume decorated with yellow lightning bolt designs, his face hidden by a cowl with a similar motif. Blue and yellow sparks emanated from his hands, arcing around him in an almost graceful manner.

The lightning man held up his right hand, firing off a massive blast of yellow electricity which exploded a nearby traffic light. A pillar of smoke blew forward to the lightning man's side, dissipating to reveal another costumed figure. He was even more outlandish in appearance than his comrades, dressed in a purple cape and a perfectly round, reflective, fishbowl-like helmet.

"A _Warriors_ reference?" the fishbowl-headed man said. "Really, Max? Bit cliche, isn't it?"

"Bite me, Beck!" the irritated Electro barked.

"Electro, Mysterio, calm yourselves," Otto ordered, his tone soft-spoken, yet commanding. "Save your anger for the Arachnid."

"And just how long will we have to wait before the Spider-Man shows himself?" Another voice spoke up - this one a deep, brutal growl, with a Russian accent. Otto looked to his other side to find a large, thick-bearded man, clad in a fur-lined vest designed to look like a lion's head, perched atop a deserted bus. "I grow restless, Doctor. A hunter cannot hunt without prey!"

" _Patience_ , Kraven," commanded Otto. "He will come. The wall-crawler always shows up at the scene of a crime… he's so _irritatingly_ reliable like that."

Another figure approached, this one a massive, lumbering giant, made from what looked like living sand. "Hey, speak for yourself, Kraven," the giant said. Its voice, speaking with a Brooklyn accent, was surprisingly casual, even friendly in tone, despite its menacing appearance. "I'd be more than happy to just keep wreckin' stuff. It's, uh, what's the word… therapeutic!"

Kraven scoffed dismissively. "Destruction without purpose lacks honor, Sandman. A hunter's every move must be strategic, carefully chosen to eliminate his prey. To destroy indiscriminately makes you little better than a mindless beast."

Sandman simply rolled his eyes (or, at least, the bits of sand meant to symbolize eyes) in annoyance. "Ah, you're no fun."

Suddenly, a low, electronic hum filled the air as yet another figure descended from the sky, landing on the bus where Kraven stood. This one was a bald-headed old man with a long, hooked nose, clad in a green bomber jacket with a fur-lined collar. The bald man wore a pair of metal gauntlets and boots with large, razor-sharp talons, and - most distinctively - a pair of massive, mechanical wings, which served as the inspiration for his supervillain codename.

"I hate to break up the fun," Vulture said, "But he's here."

The six assembled supervillains all looked forward, and sure enough, a familiar figure in red and blue tights was swinging in their direction. Otto's toothy, maniacal grin returned at the sight of his archenemy.

"So, you have arrived at last, Arachnid!" Octavius announced melodramatically, spreading his arms wide in a theatrical gesture. "I'm so very glad you could make it… to the ultimate triumph of the _Sinister Six!_ "

Spider-Man landed on the street, crouching before the united criminals. He looked up and quickly examined the enemies gathered in front of him. In the center, only a few feet ahead, was Doctor Octopus, one of Peter's most dangerous - and tenacious - enemies. Once Spider-Man lay eyes on the scene of destruction, he immediately recognized his nemesis as the culprit - after all, there aren't many villains with four robotic tentacles running around New York. Otto was clad in his usual attire - a dark green radiation suit, a brown duster coat, green gloves and boots, and a pair of goggles, whose lenses seemed to glow with an eerie green light. Peter wondered if Otto even owned any other outfits.

"Aww, did you guys throw this party just for me?" Spider-Man asked, putting on an act of false geniality. "And right after you got out of prison, too! You shouldn't have!" The web-head stood upright, crossing his arms sternly. "No, I'm serious… you really, _really_ shouldn't have. Cause now, I'm gonna have to beat your sorry butts, just like I always do."

"Not this time, wall-crawler!" Otto retorted. "This time, _I_ , _Doctor Otto Octavius_ , the world's _greatest_ scientific mind, shall prove victor-"

"Yeah yeah," Spider-Man interrupted, "You'll prove victorious, destroy that accursed arachnid, superior this, maniacal laughter that, it's the same old rant every time, Ock! Do you even _have_ a plan this time? Or were you and your Sinister Schmucks just _that_ impatient to have another go at me? Sheesh, you guys need a new hobby…"

Otto trembled with rage, gritting his teeth, unable to think up a proper response to the hero's accusations. "B-be silent!" he screamed in mad fury. "Sinister Six! _Destroy him!_ "

"Never change, Ock…" Spidey muttered, smiling under his mask. He entered a fighting stance, as Otto and his subordinates prepared to enter battle.

The first to strike was Electro - the lightning-powered villain charged up, electricity violently arcing around him as he fired a bolt at Spider-Man. The hero deftly dodged the strike, his spider-sense and enhanced agility making the feat effortless.

"I'm gonna fry you, you little bug!" Electro shouted as he tossed another pair of lightning bolts at the web-slinger.

"Sheesh, get some new material, zappy!" Spider-Man quipped as he evaded the continued electrical assault. "First of all, bugs are insects. Spiders are arachnids. Even squid-butt gets this, you really have no excuse! Second of all, _oof_ , that line! 'I'm gonna fry you'? _Seriously?_ Doesn't really get more generic than that, pal."

"Do you _ever_ shut up?!" Another voice cried from above Peter. His spider-sense alerted him to an incoming attack from the Vulture, who swooped down at Spider-Man in an attempt to strike him with his talons. Spidey rolled to avoid the attack, then snagged the airborne villain from behind with a web-line.

"You keep asking that every time we do this little song and dance, birdbrain!" Spider-Man yelled, tugging on the web-line with all his might. "And my answer is always the same: _never!_ "

The hero gave the web-line a mighty swing, hurling the trapped Vulture straight at an unsuspecting Electro - who was still charging up his next strike. The collision of the two villains caused a great explosion, sending blue and yellow sparks flying everywhere and knocking both foes out cold. The other four super-criminals looked on in awe, paralyzed with fear at how easily the hero had disabled a third of their ranks. Peter couldn't help but give a hearty laugh at his enemies' expense.

"Oh, when are you clowns ever gonna learn?" Spider-Man asked, shrugging nonchalantly. "You are never gonna beat me! How long have we been doing this again? Four, five years now? And how many times have you come close to beating me?"

"Hey, we've almost won a couple times!" Sandman protested.

"Yeah, a couple times out of, what, twenty-something battles?" Spidey replied.

"Well, closer to thirty if you want to get technical," Mysterio clarified.

"D-don't encourage him!" Otto sputtered, increasingly furious at the wall-crawler. "This time is going to be-"

"Going to be different, I know!" Spidey snapped impatiently. "You say that literally every time, and guess what? It's _never_ different."

" _Don't interrupt me!_ " Ock shrieked, practically burning with anger.

"Enough talking!" Kraven barked, drawing a pair of kukri knives. "Now, the hunt begins!"

Kraven leapt down from his perch atop the bus, and pounced at Spider-Man, swiping at the hero with his twin blades. Spidey evaded the Hunter's furious flurry of slashes, narrowly sidestepping every strike. The web-head backflipped, putting some distance between himself and Kraven, and fired a pair of web-lines at the Hunter's knives in midair, snatching the blades out of his hands. Spidey landed atop an abandoned car, tossing the knives aside.

"Try 'hunting' me without your letter openers, Kravey!" Spider-Man quipped, causing Kraven to snarl with anger.

"I've had enough of your tricks, Arachnid!" Otto cried as he strode towards the wall-crawler with his tentacles. One of his mechanical arms snapped at the hero, Spidey leaping back to avoid the attack. The Doctor's remaining arms shot out at Spider-Man in quick succession, Peter executing a series of acrobatic flips to dodge the tendrils' assault. While still in midair, Spidey fired a shot of webbing at Otto's eyes, covering his goggles with web and blocking his vision. It was a cheap tactic, one Peter had used in just about every battle he ever had with Dr. Octopus. But cheap or not, overused or not - it still worked every time.

" _Augh!_ " Otto yelped in panic as he struggled to pull off the webbing. " _Every time!_ You do this every time, you annoying little - _gah!"_

"See what I mean, Ock? Nothing _ever_ changes with you and me, no matter how many times we do this!" Spider-Man gracefully dodged Otto's wildly flailing tentacles as he spoke. "Just give up already, you're never, _ever_ gonna beat me!"

"Never!" Otto shouted, continuing to flail his tentacles madly as he grappled with the web on his face. "I will destroy you, Arachnid! And I will prove myself your superior! Superior to all! I, Doctor Otto Octavius, humanity's greatest mind!"

"Sheesh, learn a new tune already… there really is no hope for you, is there Otto?" Peter dejectedly mused under his breath.

" _Spider!_ The hunt is not over yet!" While Spider-Man was still occupied with Doctor Octopus, Kraven came running back into the fray, swinging at the web-slinger with his bare fists.

Spidey simply sighed in exasperation, shooting another web-shot at Kraven's face, causing the Hunter to stumble. The hero casually pushed Kraven into the path of one of Otto's tentacles, rendering him unconscious from the impact. Octavius finally quit trying to pull of the webbing with his hands, using one of his clawed tendrils to peel the web from his goggles. The villain looked down to find Spider-Man standing over Kraven's crumpled body.

"That makes three of your buddies I've taken down, Ock," Spidey noted. "You _sure_ you still wanna do this?"

Octavius's only reply was an inarticulate scream of pure rage. He quickly thrust one of his tentacles into the pavement, sending pieces of rubble flying. Otto's metal arms lashed out at Spider-Man, the web-slinger jumping and flipping nimbly to evade his nemesis's attacks.

Spidey vaulted off of one of Otto's snapping tendrils, sending him flying at his eight-limbed opponent. Before Octavius could react, the hero delivered a devastating right hook to his enemy's face. Otto was sent reeling from the impact, his metal arms stumbling backwards, barely keeping him supported. Before the villain could recover from his fierce punch, Spider-Man flipped forward in the air and kicked off Otto's chest, using him as a springboard while sending the metal-armed menace hurtling to the ground.

"Wow, I think this might be a new record," Spidey said as he landed on the ground. "This may have been your fastest defeat yet, squid-butt! No offense, but I think you're slipping… keep this up, and you'll lose your archenemy discount at the supermarket!"

"Ain't you forgettin' someone, web-head?" Peter's spider-sense tingled as a familiar voice spoke up. He instinctively dodged to the side as an enormous fist made of sand smashed into the ground, sending clumps of sand flying upon impact. Spider-Man looked up to find a 20-foot tall Sandman standing before him.

"Really, Marko? A giant sand fist? C'mon, you can do better than that! If you're gonna try to kill me, at least get creative with it!"

Sandman smirked, forming his right hand into a hammer-like shape. "How's _this_ for creative?"

Sandman swung his hammer-arm at Spider-Man, who jumped onto the wall of a nearby building, avoiding the attack. "Okay, just for the record: hammer? Not much better than fist."

The colossal villain transformed his left fist into a spike-covered mace, slamming it into the side of the building as the wall-crawler quickly leapt out of the way.

"Alright, alright, doin' a mace thing now," Spidey commented, unconcerned by the mortal danger he was in. "Cool, I dig it, gettin' a little medieval. Very _Dark Souls_ , I like it!"

"But…" Spider-Man continued, as he shot a web-line at a nearby car. "It's not good enough!"

Spidey gave the web-line a mighty tug, swinging the car right into Sandman's torso, causing the villain to collapse into a pile of sand.

Before Peter could celebrate his victory, however, a thick field of smoke rolled in, encircling the web-slinger. Spider-Man entered a fighting stance as a booming voice laughed ominously. The hero could see multiple silhouetted figures moving behind the smoke. The final member of the Sinister Six, Mysterio, stepped out of the cloud… followed by another Mysterio, and another, and another…

"You may have proven yourself a match for my comrades, Spider-Man," said the Mysterio directly in front of Spidey, moving his hands in 'dramatic' gestures as he spoke. "But can you overcome the maddening malevolence of _Mysterio, Master of Illusion?!_ "

"Oh, I dunno," Spidey snarked, "I've only beaten you a few dozen times before."

"Enough talk!" Mysterio declared with a wave of his cape. "Have at you!"

Mysterio's numerous doubles rushed at Spider-Man, but when the hero tried to beat them back with a flurry of punches and kicks, the illusory foes merely dissolved into more smoke.

 _Smoke and mirrors_ , Peter thought to himself. _I don't know what else I expected from ol' Misty. It's his same old trick - he tries to distract me with his magic tricks while the real thing is off hiding somewhere… and, if this is anything like the other countless fights I've had with fishbowl-head, my spidey-sense should lead me right to the genuine article!_

Peter closed his eyes, breathing deeply in and out. He concentrated, following the tingling sensation inside his head. As Peter cleared his mind, a strange feeling seemed to emanate from directly behind Peter, as if there was a presence lurking there…

Spider-Man whirled around and fired a large spray of webbing in the direction of the eerie presence. Sure enough, the webbing landed on what at first seemed like thin air. The air around the seemingly floating webbing became blurry, and soon a figure came into view - the true Mysterio, wriggling and grumbling in discomfort as he tried to free himself from the web-slinger's trap.

Spidey let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Okay, now this is just getting pathetic. I mean, come on, I've beaten you losers more times than I can count! At this point you should either try a new approach, or just give up and stay in jail. Personally, I recommend the latter."

The friendly neighborhood hero delivered a swift punch to Mysterio's dome helmet, shattering it and impacting the face beneath the mask. Peter didn't put a fraction of the effort into this punch that he did when attacking Doctor Octopus. Since the illusionist promptly crumpled to the ground, he clearly didn't need to.

The wall-crawler threw his hands up in frustration, almost disappointed by how easily his enemies fell. "C'mon, is that all you Sinister Schmucks got?"

Peter soon received his answer when he was caught off guard by the tingling of his spider-sense. He instinctively jumped in the air, evading a swipe from one of Doc Ock's tentacles as it shot out from beneath him. Just as quickly as Spider-Man dodged the first tentacle, however, a second one struck him with lightning speed, landing a direct hit to the hero's back. After Spidey was knocked to the ground by the impact, the robotic tendril picked him up by the leg with its cold pincers, whipping him around like a rag doll as it slammed the costumed crime-fighter into cars, buildings, windows, and the pavement in quick succession.

Finally, the metal arm smashed Spider-Man into a brick wall, the exterior of some office building. The battered Peter felt another tentacle grab hold of his left hand, restraining it against the wall. Another tentacle bound his left leg in place, and the last clutched his right hand. Peter was locked in place. Even if he didn't have Ock's tentacles keeping him trapped, Peter doubted he would have the strength to move after the beating he received.

Otto gave a bone-chilling chuckle as he approached his captive nemesis. He was hunched over, his hands behind his back, and his goggles shining with an eerie glow. "You were unwise to underestimate me, Arachnid. I would hope that you'd know better than that, after all these years we've done battle. I have always been your greatest foe, Spider-Man, as we both know. And now, as I said before, I shall claim my ultimate victory. Sandman, will you do the honors?"

Peter glanced over in fear as Sandman approached Otto's side, now reduced to his human (or at least humanoid) form after his gigantic state was toppled. In this form, he appeared to be a regular (if imposing) person - a large man, square-jawed and broad-shouldered, dressed in a green striped shirt and khaki pants. Indeed, the villain could have passed for an everyday civilian… were it not for his massive right arm made out of living sand.

"It'd be my pleasure, Doc," Sandman replied, with an affable smile that belied his murderous intentions. "Sorry, web-head, I hate to do this to ya - seriously, I do. It's been a good run, you and me. So just know that this ain't nothin' personal."

Sandman clutched Spider-Man's head with his enlarged sand-fist, covering the hero's face in his palm. Peter's eyes, nose, and mouth were all covered in the shifting sand that made up the villain. Peter tried to fight. He tried to scream. But he didn't have the power left in him. Sandman began to dissolve his fist around Spider-Man's head, smothering the hero, drowning him in sand, while still pinning him to the wall with his arm. Sandman couldn't bear to look at the broken hero while he choked the life out of him. It was a bad way to go. But it needed to be done, or so the Doctor told him.

Otto laughed with maniacal glee. "Oh, you have no idea how long I've waited for this moment! As satisfying as it would have been to simply impale you with my arms, ripping your heart out in a single blow… I want you to _suffer_ before you die, Arachnid. I want you to die slowly, _painfully_ , knowing that there is nothing you can possibly do to save yourself. Knowing that you have been completely, utterly defeated by your superior, Doctor Otto Octavius! And I want you to die knowing all the pain that I have endured at your hands, suffering defeat after defeat… you feel it already, don't you? That pain is my final gift to you, _Spider-Man_ … oh, but you probably can't even hear me at this point, can you?"

Doctor Octopus cackled madly at the end of his rant. But in truth, Peter could barely hear him anymore. His hearing and vision were starting to fade. Peter knew that soon, he would lose consciousness. And he knew that he probably wouldn't wake up.

 _No,_ Peter thought, _It can't end like this! I've beaten these losers before, I can do it again! I always win… I'm Spider-Man, right? Sure, things get tough every once in a while, but I'll find a way out of it, come up with a clever plan, bounce back to win the fight, and laugh it all off with a funny quip… that's what always happens, isn't it? I mean, I'm the hero… I always save the day. I always beat the villains, I always save everyone…_

 _Save everyone… I have a job to do! I have to keep fighting, I have to keep saving lives, protecting people… that's my responsibility… with great power… there must also…_

 _So I can't lose now! I can't die! I have to keep fighting… have to keep… keep fighting… can't lose… can't lose… can't… keep fighting…_

Peter's last traces of sensation faded, and he fell into darkness. As he drifted into a sleep he would likely never return from, a series of images - or perhaps the were more like ideas - appeared in Peter's mind. Images Peter had never seen before, feelings he had never felt, yet they were clear as day, as real and vivid as anything he'd experienced with his own eyes. Like memories, or fragments of memories, from someone else's life, they flashed through Peter's unconscious mind in rapid succession.

Stars. A shining kingdom. Soldiers gathering. Horses. Wings. Warriors. Swords. Battle. Companions. Courage. Honor. Duty.

Love.

Death.

Fire.

A thunderstorm.

A golden spear.

 _Hope._

Suddenly, Peter awoke as sensation came flooding back to him in a flash of golden light. Peter cried out in confusion as he shielded his eyes from the blinding glow. When the light finally faded, he found himself collapsed on the ground. He wasn't trapped by Sandman or Doc Ock anymore. And, perhaps even more strangely, he didn't feel injured, or even tired, as if the damage Octavius dealt him had magically been undone. Peter took a moment to regain his bearings, but he soon got back on his feet and looked up at his surroundings. What Peter saw, however, was something he didn't expect… or rather, some _one._

Otto was still there, Peter observed, standing right where he was before, but he was covering his eyes - presumably from the same light Peter saw - and his tentacles were lying limp on the pavement. There were clumps of sand strewn everywhere as well - the remains of Sandman's shattered form, no doubt. What truly caught Peter's attention, however, was the person standing in between himself and Otto.

There was a woman - a tall woman, easily a few inches taller than Peter, with long golden hair tied into a pair of braids. She wore a silver breastplate over a black unitard, as well as silver greaves and bracers, and a plain brown belt with a silver buckle. Just as distinctive as the pieces of armor the woman was clad in was the flowing blue cape she wore around her neck, which billow dramatically in the winter breeze. Perhaps most notable, however, were the metal-tipped spear she held in her right hand, and the round golden shield in her left.

The spear-wielding woman at first had her back turned to Peter, but she soon turned around, revealing her face. Despite her imposing appearance, the woman's features were soft and beautiful. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, and she greeted Peter with a warm smile - he couldn't help but be reminded of Gwen by her appearance. After a few moments of silence, in which the woman seemed to be as occupied examining the Spider-Man's appearance as he was studying her, the mysterious spear-wielder spoke up.

"Thou who hast summoned me from the timeless beyond death, I ask of thee - art thou my Master?"

Spider-Man simply sat, slumped awkwardly on the ground, at a loss for words. Partially because the spear-wielding woman was a truly awe-inspiring presence… but also because Peter had no idea what she was talking about.

" _Wh-what is this?!_ " Otto screamed indignantly, drawing out the 's' sound like a hissing snake. "You must be another of the Arachnid's hero friends… one of the Avengers, perhaps? It doesn't matter! The Spider-Man's destruction _will be mine!"_

Otto shot his upper right tentacle at the mysterious woman… who casually sliced off the clawed end of the arm with a swing of her spear. Peter and Otto both gasped in shock - even Peter on a good day had never managed to damage Ock's tentacles without a considerable deal of effort. But this spear-wielding woman simply chopped off the end of one without even trying. Just what was that spear-tip made of?

Still paralyzed by the damage, Otto pulled back the beheaded tentacle and gazed down, agape in disbelief, at the exposed circuitry. Before the villain could fully process what just happened, the spear-wielding woman twirled her polearm around and threw it, javelin-style, at Octavius's upper left tentacle, ripping it clear off of him.

As Otto screamed in pain, reaching new levels of panic every second, the woman's spear vanished in a flash of light as it flew through the air, reappearing in her hand. Finally, the woman threw her shield in a manner that reminded Peter of another of his fellow heroes, hitting Octavius on the forehead and knocking him out cold, sending the many-armed villain tumbling to the ground.

The spear-wielding woman turned back to Spider-Man, giving him a triumphant grin. "The enemy has fallen, Master. Shall I finish off this foul villain?"

Peter immediately leapt to his feet, waving his hands in protest. "No! No no no no no, no finishing him off! We don't need to kill him, got it? We're not here to kill anybody."

The woman pondered Spider-Man's words for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "I suppose you're right. Life is indeed a precious thing, and should be protected… even if its gift is wasted on brutes such as this. Still, Master, this lout made an attempt on your life, and must not go unpunished!" Her tone went from gentle to stern, and her expression grew fierce.

"No need to worry about that!" Peter nervously assured the spear-wielding woman. "The cops or SHIELD will be here in a bit, and they'll take care of Ock and his buddies. Maybe they'll even stay locked up this time… But, uh, I think the more pressing concern is… who are you?"

The woman looked surprised for a moment, then gave a smile of amusement. "Surely you jest, Master. Art thou not the one who summoned me?"

"First of all, I wasn't trying to summon anything," Spider-Man explained, growing increasingly confused by the strange woman's words. "And second, why do you keep calling me 'Master'? This, uh… this isn't some kinda weird sex thing, is it? Cause just so you know, I have a girlfriend, and I don't think I'd be comfortable-"

"You can't be serious…" the woman interrupted. She wore a worried expression, clearly starting to realize that Peter wasn't joking. "Do you truly mean to tell me that you have no knowledge of the Holy Grail War? Have you not even noticed the Command Seal on thy hand?"

The woman gestured towards Peter's right hand. Peter looked down, noticing that the mysterious, star-like brand on the back of his hand was emitting a powerful red glow, one that was even visible from under the glove of his costume.

"Oh… that thing? I mean, I noticed it, sure, but I had no idea what it was… I was just about to go ask somebody about it before all this ruckus started, actually. You wouldn't happen to know what its deal is, would you? And what's this about a Holy Grail? Are you on your way to a Monty Python screening or something?"

The spear-wielding woman's expression grew increasingly serious. "So… thou didst not intend to summon me?"

Peter sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, lady. I appreciate the save, believe me, but I have no idea how you got here. If it has anything to do with this glowy magic tattoo here, I promise you it was not my idea. I don't even know how it got on me…"

The woman remained silent for a few moments, clearly deep in thought. "Yes," she said, stroking her chin. "That would explain why I cannot enter spiritual form… it would seem that my summoning was entirely accidental."

Spider-Man shrugged in response. "That's what I keep tryin' to tell you, lady. All this magic stuff - I mean, I assume it's magic, anyway - it's a little over my head."

The woman nodded, and firmly planted her spear on the ground, a stern expression on her face. "Very well then. It would seem I have some explaining to do. Whether my summoning was accidental or not, the truth of the matter remains the same. I am a Heroic Spirit, summoned under the Lancer class to be your Servant in this Holy Grail War. It is my duty to serve as your loyal champion, your unyielding weapon. Your wish is my wish, your fate is my fate, and your command is my purpose."

Peter simply stood awkwardly before the intimidating warrior woman, before speaking up in reply. "Oh… well then. That clears up… absolutely nothing."

The spear-wielding woman looked almost embarrassed. "You… really don't know anything about the Grail War, do you?"

Spidey gave an exaggerated shrug in response. "Like I said, magic stuff ain't really my thing. I beat up muggers, and bank robbers, and the occasional animal-themed supervillain! Magic is more of my buddy Doctor Strange's department… that's why I was gonna head over to see him about this Command whatever."

A deep, frustrated sigh left the mysterious woman's lips. "I… really don't think I am the best person to explain all this. The Holy Grail War is a… complicated matter. If this strange doctor fellow is as knowledgeable in matters of magic as you say, he will be better suited to explain everything. It would be better to discuss these matters in a less… chaotic environment anyway."

"Alright then," Peter replied. "Next stop: the Sanctum Sanctorum. Follow me, uh… what should I call you, exactly?"

"Lancer is the name of my class," the spear-wielding woman answered, "so simply Lancer shall suffice for now."

"Okay… still don't quite get what that means, but alright!" Spider-Man fired a web-line at the top of a nearby building. "Follow me, Lancer!"

The wall-crawler pulled himself up by the web-line, vaulting onto the roof of the building. "Oh, and do try to keep up!" Peter called out, unable to resist the opportunity to show off.

Like a bolt of lightning, Lancer leapt up from the street below and, in a single bound, joined her Master on the rooftop.

"With all due respect, Master," Lancer said with a friendly, yet cocky grin. "I believe I'm the one who should be saying that to you."

Peter smiled back beneath his mask. "Lancer, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."


	4. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer** : Marvel, Fate/Stay Night and all related characters, concepts etc. are property of their respective owners, I own nothing, etc._

 _Chapter 3_

 _Peter Parker and the Holy Grail_

Spider-Man knocked on the large wooden door of the Sanctum Sanctorum - the three-story townhouse located at 177A Bleecker Street. Upon first glance, the building was a perfectly normal, if a bit aged, brownstone. Those acquainted with the house's owner, however, knew the truth behind the residence - that it was the epicenter of all mystical activity in New York, and home to Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, Doctor Stephen Strange. Peter heard the whistle of the winter wind blowing by as he and the woman calling herself Lancer stood side by side in a decidedly awkward silence.

Peter still wasn't entirely sure how to feel about Lancer. Despite his earlier "beautiful friendship" quip, he couldn't help but feel a bit wary of a strange woman who appeared out of nowhere by literal magic, then promptly professed to be his "Servant". Sure, she saved his life, which Peter certainly appreciated, but the why and how of her very presence - let alone her apparent subservience to him, left Peter bewildered. He felt completely out of his depth here - as he often did when magic was involved. But if there was anyone who could offer answers, it was Doctor Strange.

Spidey glanced at Lancer as they waited at the door in total silence. She stood as straight as a board, with her spear held upright and her expression like stone, as if she was standing guard at a castle gate. While her odd behavior made Peter a bit uneasy, he didn't really dislike her either. While he had yet to properly gauge her character based on the few short minutes he had known her, Peter had no reason to believe that Lancer was a bad person. Once again, she saved his life, and seemed to agree with his sentiment when he told her to spare Doc Ock. She generally seemed pretty friendly too, and, perhaps most tellingly, didn't do anything to alert Peter's spider-sense. So logically, Peter had no reason to be suspicious of her… but he couldn't shake his discomfort all the same.

 _Magic_ , Peter thought. _I hate magic._

Suddenly, the door swung open, making a loud creaking noise. The sound made Spidey jump in surprise, prompting Lancer to ready her spear in a fighting stance, aiming her polearm towards the door. Peter was relieved, however, when he saw a familiar face standing in the doorway.

The one who opened the Sanctum's front door was a Chinese man, middle-aged and bald, dressed in a green robe. "Spider-Man," he said, greeting the web-slinger with a warm smile. "My apologies, I didn't intend to startle you."

"Wong!" Spidey exclaimed, breathing heavily as he recovered from the shock. "Uh, hey! Good to see you, man! Been too long!"

"Indeed," Wong agreed. "I'm sure that Stephen will be glad to see you." Wong looked at Lancer, unfazed by the spear being aimed at him. "I don't believe I've met your companion before."

Spider-Man glanced over at the combat-ready Lancer, who was still staring intensely at Wong, as if she was ready to impale him at a moment's notice. "Uh, Lancer, put the spear down, please!" Peter urged. "He's a friend, no need to worry! So, uh, no stabbing! Please!"

Lancer nodded solemnly as her spear disappeared into light. "Of course, Master."

"Master?" Wong repeated. His eyes widened, as if he had suddenly come to a realization. "Please, do come in. Stephen is meditating in his study, I shall take you there at once."

Whether he meant it or not, Wong's tone sounded decidedly urgent - a detail that did not escape Peter. Combined with his reaction to Lancer's use of the word 'Master', it seemed as though Wong knew more about Peter's situation than he was letting on. More and more, Peter had the feeling that Strange was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Wong led Spider-Man and Lancer inside the Sanctum Sanctorum. Peter instantly felt more comfortable within the warm townhouse than he did out in the winter cold. This wasn't Peter's first visit to the Sorcerer Supreme's home, but the Sanctum's interior never stopped being a sight to behold. The decor resembled a medieval castle more than a New York brownstone - fitting for the abode of a wizard. The walls were lined with torches, suits of armor, and paintings depicting all manner of supernatural-looking scenes. Also decorating the ornate main hall were pedestals holding various mystical artifacts - spellbooks, crystals, wands, and other arcane trinkets of which Peter could only guess the true nature.

The trio eventually came to a central staircase at the end of the hall, carpeted by an expensive-looking purple rug. Spider-Man and Lancer followed Wong up the stairs to the wooden door waiting at the top, which Wong held open to reveal Doctor Strange's study. The room had a cozy, scholarly feel to it, as if it belonged in an old library or college - mostly because of the several rows of bookcases that that occupied the far sides of the chamber.

In the center of the room was a wooden table, covered by a purple tablecloth, and surrounded by a group of incredibly comfy-looking chairs and crouches. At the end of the room was a large, circular window, emblazoned with a mystical design consisting of four swooping lines. Peter had heard Strange describe the symbol before as the "Seal of the Vishanti," though he didn't fully understand the significance of the name. Golden rays of sunlight shone brightly from the window - the room's only source of light - illuminating the dust motes that floated about the study.

Levitating beneath the window was Doctor Stephen Strange, floating in the air as he meditated. The Doctor's crimson Cloak of Levitation billowed and flowed around him, as if in zero gravity. After letting the two houseguests inside the study, Wong went to approach the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Stephen," Wong said, "We have guests. Spider-Man has come to discuss an important matter with you."

Strange opened his eyes, uncrossing his legs and dropping back down to the ground. The Sorcerer Supreme gave a jubilant grin as he laid eyes on Spider-Man. "Peter! So good to see you. Please, have a seat! Make yourself at home!"

"Always a pleasure, Doc!" Spidey replied as he flipped into the air, plopping down onto a couch. Peter stretched his arms out wide and casually put his feet up on the table. Lancer and Strange soon joined him at the table, sitting down in chairs of their own.

"So, what is this important matter you wanted to talk about?" Strange asked. "Actually, first things first - I don't believe I've made the acquaintance of your lovely associate here." The Doctor extended his hand to Lancer. "Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. It is my very good pleasure to meet you, miss-?"

Lancer smiled back, Strange's flattery having seemingly worked, and gave the mage's hand a firm shake. "You may call me Lancer, good Doctor."

Strange gave the same wide-eyed look of shock Wong wore when he met Lancer. It seemed that the Doctor could provide the answers Peter wanted after all. "Lancer?" Strange repeated. "You mean to say-"

"Indeed," Lancer confirmed with a nod of her head. "I am a Servant, summoned by this... spidery fellow in red, the one you call Peter."

It was then that Peter realized he never actually gave Lancer his name. Somehow, in all the fuss, it had escaped his mind. He'd have to remedy that later, but for now, there were questions that needed answering.

"Which, for the record," Spidey chimed in, "I wasn't actually trying to do. I was in a fight with the Sinister Six, there was this big flash of light, and boom, Lancer here is standing right in front of me. I'm thinkin' it has something to do with this thing."

Peter removed his right glove, holding the mark on his hand up for Strange to see. The Sorcerer Supreme studied the design intensely for a few moments, then simply sighed and removed his own right glove, revealing to Peter his own markings.

"Whoa, Doc, you got one of those tattoo things too?" Peter observed. "You gotta know what all this stuff is about right? All the crap about Masters and Servants, and something about the Holy Grail? Cause, like, I'm not gonna lie… I am one thousand percent lost right now."

Strange remained silent for a few more seconds, carefully considering his words. "Peter… I'm sorry. You've been dragged into a conflict that you had no knowledge of, no way to prepare for. By summoning Lancer, you have become a participant in an ancient conflict between Mages - one with ultimate power as the prize. I'll be honest with you. I have no idea how or why you were chosen. But somehow, by some… quirk of fate - you've become a Master in the Fifth Holy Grail War."

The words echoed in Peter's mind. _Ancient conflict between mages. Ultimate power. Holy Grail War… What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, Parker?_

"Okay…" Peter began after a few moments of dead silence. "That's all well and good, but I still have no _semblance_ of an idea as to what this Grail whatchamacallit _actually is._ So some explanation there would be appreciated."

Strange stroked his beard in thought, planning out how he would proceed. "Well, I suppose I'll start at the beginning. Over 200 years ago, in a Japanese city named Fuyuki, there were three great Mages, each from a powerful and prestigious magical family, who came together to devise a ritual - a ritual intended to grant immortality through the use of a Holy Grail."

"The Holy Grail?" Spider-Man repeated. "As in, _Last Crusade_ , King Arthur, Monty Python, all that stuff? _The_ Holy Grail?"

"Well, not quite," Strange corrected. "The Grail used in the ritual wasn't the true Cup of Christ - rather, it was an imitation created by the three families. But fake or not, it was an immense source of magical power, said to be able to grant any wish. By all accounts, the Grail would be equal to a Cosmic Cube in terms of its power over reality… possibly even stronger.

"At any rate, the three families constructed the Holy Grail as a tool to attain immortality. However, they soon realized that the Grail could only be used by one person, and so, a fierce conflict broke out over who would receive the Grail's gift."

"So, that's what this Grail War is, huh?" Peter asked. A big battle royale over who gets to live forever?"

Strange shook his head. "You're not wrong, but that's only a piece of the story. The original Grail, at first, was nothing more than an empty vessel, lacking the power to change reality. In order to fill the Grail with magical power, sacrifices were required."

Spidey went wide-eyed in shock. "Wait, you're not going to say 'human sacrifice', are you? Cause I feel like that's where this is going, and frankly, I'm not comfortable with that."

The Sorcerer Supreme shot a glare at the wall-crawler. "Let me finish."

"Sorry," Peter apologized sheepishly, sinking further into his chair until he practically melded with it. "Shutting up now. Continue."

"Thank you," Strange replied. "Now where was I? Oh yes. The Grail needed more Mana to work its magic. That's where your friend Lancer here comes in. In order to complete the Grail, the three families summoned seven legendary heroes from the past to serve as sacrifices. These Heroic Spirits were beings overflowing with Mana, and after the Grail absorbed them, it would have the power to grant virtually any wish.

"However, once the ritual turned into a war, these heroes, now known as Servants, became soldiers, living weapons for the mages who summoned them, in order to strike down their completion. With seven Heroic Spirits summoned as sacrifices, there were seven duos of Master and Servant vying for the Holy Grail. In the end, however, they were all wiped out, and the Grail was claimed by no one."

"Well that was anticlimactic," snarked Peter. "So, when you say legendary heroes, you mean, like, Odysseus? Beowulf? Hercules? Well, not Hercules, he's still around. Nice guy. Kinda rowdy, but fun at parties."

"Speak for yourself. Herc still owes me fifty bucks," Strange remarked in irritation. "But yes, that's the right idea. Servants are famous figures from mythology or history, summoned from the past to do battle with one another in the present.

"Most often, however," Strange continued, "Servants keep their true identities a secret from all but their Masters. Since their legends are common knowledge in modern day, Servants keep their names and histories a secret, so as to prevent any historical weaknesses from being used against them. For instance, if you knew your opponent was Achilles, you'd immediately think to aim for his heel, wouldn't you? That's the sort of situation that Servants typically strive to avoid."

"Okay, I get it…" Spider-Man replied, stroking his chin in thought. He turned to Lancer, realizing that he'd been mostly ignoring her until now. "So, Lancer isn't your real name, I take it?"

Lancer nodded at her Master and smiled, clearly glad that Peter was finally catching on. "Verily. In truth, I am indeed a hero of legend, just as the good Doctor says." Lancer's smile became a little more self-satisfied as she spoke - clearly, she liked the idea of being a legend.

"However," Lancer added, "I have chosen to hide my true name, in order to prevent our adversaries in this war from exploiting that knowledge."

While he chose not to press the matter here, in front of Strange, Peter couldn't help but wonder which legendary hero Lancer could be. Athena, maybe? Joan of Arc? His mind raced, dying to know more, but Peter decided the question would be best asked in private, considering the sensitive nature of the relevant information.

"So, you said something before about Lancer being the name of your 'class'?" Spider-Man inquired. "What'd you mean by that?"

Lancer nodded. "Ah, yes. As part of the summoning ritual, the seven Servants of the Holy Grail War are all divided into seven unique classes, in accordance with the skills they are remembered for. As a renowned master of the spear, I was summoned into the Lancer class."

"Makes sense," Peter replied. "So, what about the other classes?"

"Well, as Lancer said, there are Seven in all," Strange explained. "Obviously you have the Lancer class, reserved for Heroic Spirits who were known in life for their skill with spears, lances, and other such weapons. Lancer is one of what's known as the Three Knight Classes. You also have the Saber class, for heroes of the sword, and Archer, for heroes of the bow.

"Like Hawkeye!" Peter interjected cheerfully.

"Yes," Strange chuckled, "Like Hawkeye. Then you have the Four Cavalry Classes. There's the Rider class, reserved for heroes famed for their mounted feats, whether it be on horseback, on chariot, or what have you. Assassin and Berserker… those should be self-explanatory. And finally… Caster. The class of heroes who have mastered the mystic arts."

Spidey raised his hand. "Uh, question. I think I get the gist of what this whole class thing is all about now, so thanks for that, but why bother dividing the Servants into classes to begin with, if they were just supposed to get killed off to feed the Grail? Were these Mage families running a DD campaign or something? And for that matter, in what reality do Berserkers, Assassins, and wizards count as cavalry units?"

Doctor Strange simply shrugged in response, grumbling in frustration. "Look, I didn't come up with the rules, alright? I'm just the messenger here!"

"Sorry, sorry," Peter apologized. "So… I do have another question. You said that I'm part of the Fifth Holy Grail War, right? So obviously that first war wasn't the end of the story."

"Indeed," Strange confirmed. "The Holy Grail remained, even after all the Masters and Servants fighting over it had fallen. Since the ritual was never properly completed, the Fuyuki Grail reset itself, so to speak, after the original war. Over the course of the next sixty years, the Grail recharged its Mana supply, after all the energy it gathered went to waste. Eventually, it selected new Mages to serve as Masters, and the Holy Grail War began anew. The second war ended up in a draw as well, as did the third and the fourth. Now, the Fifth Holy Grail War is upon us, and we have both been marked as Masters."

"Fun times," Spider-Man responded, his tone full of sarcasm. "So… elephant in the room here. I'm not a Mage. And, as I've demonstrated oh so clearly over the course of this conversation, I don't know jack when it comes to magic. So… how did I end up as a Master? And, for that matter, you never explained the magic tats on my hand. What do they have to do with me summoning Lancer?"

Doctor Strange exhaled as he began stroking his beard once again. "Well, as for the markings on your hand, that is what's known as a Command Seal. It's the result of the Holy Grail branding you as a Master, tangible proof of your bond with your Servant. As the name implies, the Command Seal is what allows the Masters to command their Servants, its power overruling whatever individual agendas the Servant might hold."

"Nifty… and also kinda creepy," commented Peter as he stared down at the Seal on his hand. He looked up at Lancer. "But, uh, just for the record, I'm not really the 'commanding' type. I'm more of a 'cooperation' kinda guy. Y'know, fighting side by side instead of just giving orders. You get what I'm sayin'?"

Lancer gave an earnest smile, nodding in affirmation. "Thou art a warrior, not a ruler. I understand completely."

"Now, as for the matter of how you were able to summon a Servant," Strange continued, steepling his fingers in contemplation. "Clearly you have been chosen as a Master by the Holy Grail, your possession of a Command Seal makes that much evident. And thanks to that Command Seal, you were able to call forth a Servant, whether you intended to or not.

"However, this still leaves the question as to how a non-Mage could even become a Master to begin with. And, while I wish that I could offer a concrete answer… I'm honestly just as lost here as you are. Which doesn't exactly happen very often when you're the Sorcerer Supreme. All I can offer are theories, and not even good ones at that. Perhaps it's because your power…" Strange let out a deep, exasperated sigh. "You know what, never mind. Forget I said anything."

"No, you were about to say something!" Spidey protested. "What was that about my power?"

"It's nothing, I promise," Strange insisted. "Just the ramblings of an old wizard, that's all."

Peter crossed his arms, disappointed by the Doctor's answer - or rather, the lack thereof. "Alright… so, on the topic of Command Seals, you have one too, right? So, does that mean you're a Master too?"

Strange nodded. "Very astute of you, Peter. Yes, I received my Seal several months ago. I was initially reluctant to enter the Grail War - the Sorcerers Supreme have historically stayed out of the battle - but I eventually decided that if I did get involved, it would be easier for me to reduce any casualties or collateral damage. After all, this is a battle royale between some of the most skilled Mages in the world… and many of them don't share my altruistic nature. The kinds of Masters we will face in this war may very well be willing to sacrifice countless lives in order to gain an advantage. What better way to prevent that than as an an active participant in the Holy Grail War? That was my thinking, at least."

"Yeah, I gotcha," Spider-Man agreed. "Plus, this Grail is supposed to be, like, all-powerful, right? You wouldn't want any jerks like Baron Mordo getting their mitts on it."

Strange gave a wide grin, excitedly pointing a finger at Peter. "Exactly! So, I decided to summon a Servant of my own, and fight for the Holy Grail. Well, not for the sake of the Grail itself, but - ah, you know what I mean, I already gave you the whole spiel."

Silence took over once again as Peter thought long and hard about Strange's words. _The man makes a valid point,_ Peter thought to himself. _There's plenty of magic-loving bad guys out there who'd kill for a chance at that Grail - in the most literal sense possible. Kill innocent people, people like Aunt May, or Harry, or Gwen… all for the sake of ultimate power. It's my responsibility to keep that from happening, right? I'm a hero, protecting people is kinda my whole deal. So, if fighting in this Grail War means keeping a mega-powerful artifact out of the hands of the forces of evil… how can I say no?_

 _Of course, on the one hand… magic. Boy, do I hate magic._

 _But on the other hand… great responsibility._

 _Yeah. Not really much of a choice, is it?_

"Alright Doc, you drive a hard bargain," Spider-Man declared confidently. "I'm in."

Strange looked surprised at how quickly Peter came to a decision. "Are you sure? The Grail War won't be like fighting the Hood, or the Maggia. These aren't common criminals you'll be facing. Every Servant is a legend in their own right - every bit as powerful and dangerous as one of the Avengers, if not even stronger. People _die_ in this war, Peter. Do you understand that?"

"If I was afraid of dying, I wouldn't put on this mask every day," Peter answered, his tone resolute, full of determination. "If me fighting in this Holy Grail War will help save lives, then there's no other course I can take. Simple as that."

The Doctor chuckled softly, giving an amused smirk. "I knew there was a reason we were friends."

"Indeed!" Lancer exclaimed, her voice loud and full of excitement. She wore a toothy grin and a gaze that burned bright with passion. "Spoken like a true hero, Master! It brings me joy to know that I was summoned by one with such a noble heart. There is no doubt left in my mind! Together, we shall claim our victory in this war, and the Grail will be ours!"

Lancer punctuated her boisterous declaration by slamming her fist onto the table… shattering it from the force of the impact. When she realized what she had done, the Servant drew back, wincing in embarrassment.

"Oh dear… my apologies." Lancer's tone was soft, almost meek, in stark contrast with her earlier exuberance. "I suppose I'm simply used to there being sturdier tables where I'm from."

"No worries," Strange said, surprisingly nonchalant. "A simple repair spell and it'll be good as new."

"So, Doc… where's this Servant of yours?" Peter curiously asked, rocking back and forth in a fetal position like a restless child. "You said you summoned one, right?"

Strange chuckled again. "I knew it would come to this eventually. I'm afraid he's the overly cautious type. Doesn't want any information about him getting out, so he's been staying out of sight. Caster, come out and introduce yourself!"

A field of glowing blue light began emanating from beside Strange's chair. The light grew in size and intensity, until a humanoid silhouette was formed. The brilliant aura dissipated, revealing in its wake a hooded man clad in an ornate-looking blue and white robe. Beneath the robe, the man wore a black undershirt, a silver bracer on his left arm, silver greaves, and no shoes. In his right hand, he held a wooden staff that was as tall as he was. Everything on the man's person, from his clothes to his staff, was engraved with intricate and elaborate patterns, some of which gave off the same blue glow that the man appeared in. The Servant of the Caster class certainly looked the part of a wizard, Peter thought. He wouldn't look out of place among some of Thor's Asgardian allies.

Caster let out a deep, annoyed sigh. "Do I really have to, Master? I'm not really a meet-and-greet kinda guy."

In contrast to Lancer's flowery language and accent, Caster spoke no differently from any ordinary civilian on the street. The difference was jarring to Peter when he first heard Caster speak - he had assumed that all ancient heroes would have sufficiently antiquated speech.

"Play nice, Caster." Strange's tone was polite, yet firm, as if he was chastising a child. "Lancer's Master is a good friend of mine. Make a good first impression."

"Alright, fine," Caster grumbled. The Servant removed his fur-lined hood to reveal his face. For having such a masculine voice, Caster's features were very soft and graceful, almost feminine. The Servant's eyes were of a striking crimson shade. Even more striking, however, was his hair - a long, well-kept mane of a deep blue coloration. Finally, he wore two silver earrings, accentuating his 'pretty-boy' looks.

"Name's Caster," the Servant greeted, slinging his staff on his shoulder like a baseball bat. He flashed a cocksure smirk at Spider-Man and Lancer. "Any friend of my Master is a friend of mine, I suppose."

"Oh, come on now," Doctor Strange chuckled, raising an eyebrow at his Servant. "We both know you can do better than that."

Caster was taken aback, his self-assured smile disappearing as his eyes went wide. "Wait, you don't seriously expect me to tell them my real name, do you?!"

"There's no need to be wary of them, Caster," Strange gently assured. "I would trust Peter here with my life."

Caster sighed again, looking back at Spidey and Lancer. "Very well then… you may know me better by my real name… Cu Chulainn." Caster gave a proud, toothy grin as he announced his name.

Peter and his Servant merely sat in silence for a few seconds. "Uh… who?" The befuddled Spidey asked.

Caster's jaw practically hit the floor, the Servant looking downright offended by Peter's confusion. "Cu Chulainn? You know, the Hound of Ulster? Child of Light? Ring any bells?"

Spider-Man shook his head slowly. "Not really, no…"

"I'm Ireland's most famous hero!" The increasingly desperate Caster shouted.

"Ohhh, you're Irish!" Spidey exclaimed, as if a lightbulb had just gone off in his head. "That explains it… yeah, I know nothing whatsoever about Celtic mythology."

Caster groaned in disappointment as Strange and Lancer tried not to burst out laughing. "Really?" Caster asked, to no one in particular. "After all I've done, this is the kind of respect I get?"

"My apologies, Caster," Lancer chuckled, "But it would seem that not all heroes are fit for the same level of renown these days."

"Shut it, Lancer!" Caster barked irritably. "Don't expect any sympathy from me after you steal my favorite class. You do know I was best known as a spearman in life, right? … Actually, scratch that. Because clearly, neither of you know _anything_ about me!"

 _Crap,_ Peter thought, _I'm actually starting to feel sorry for this Cuckoo guy…_

"Please, both of you calm down!" Strange piped up, still struggling not to laugh even as he tried to be the voice of reason. "I realize this is the Holy Grail _War_ , but we're not supposed to be warring with each other."

"I bet I'm still more of a legend than _you_ ," Caster remarked to Lancer, ignoring his Master's attempt to defuse the situation. "I'm the greatest hero there is in my homeland!"

"Thy words are full of pride, Caster," Lancer retorted, keeping her cool. "Thou wouldst do well to act more humbly, if thou truly art so heroic…"

"Okay, for real though," Spider-Man interrupted, "Let's break it up."

Lancer nodded. "Of course, Master."

"Whatever," Caster scoffed.

"Huh… hey Lancer, mind if I ask you something?" Peter inquired.

"What is it, Master?"

"How come Caster can speak modern English perfectly, but you use all those 'thines' and 'thou arts'?" Spider-Man asked his Servant. "I mean, I don't mean to criticize, it's kinda endearing actually, but I mean, you're talking like you're Thor or something."

Suddenly, Lancer gasped, her eyes widening and her face going pale. She looked shocked to the core, as if she had just seen a ghost. "Thor?" she repeated.

"Yeah, Thor," Peter affirmed. "Asgardian, blond hair, magic hammer. Part of the Avengers. Great guy, real good friend. What about him? Is everything okay, Lancer? You don't look so good?"

Lancer looked Spider-Man square in the eyes - or at least, the lenses of his mask - and asked a single question.

"How do you know my brother?"

 _Several hours earlier_

Shirou Emiya panted heavily as he bolted down the hallway of Homurahara Academy. With no light to guide him but that of the moon shining in from the windows, Shirou made a mad dash towards whatever exit he could find.

This was hardly how the aspiring Mage had planned on spending his evening. It was supposed to be an ordinary night. Shirou was going to stay after school and take care of whatever chores he could find, then come home and enjoy a nice, fresh-cooked meal with his guardian Taiga Fujimura and his friend Sakura Matou. But somewhere along the way, things took a turn for the strange. And as the son of a Mage, Shirou knew a thing a two about strangeness.

Just as Shirou was about to head home after completing his chores for the evening, he heard noises coming from the schoolyard. The sound of metal clashing against metal, and the sound of electricity crackling. When he went to investigate, he saw a scene unlike anything he had ever witnessed in his life.

Shirou saw a white-haired man in a crimson coat, wielding a pair of swords, engaged in battle with a small army of… _things_. They looked human, at least from a distance, but there was something _wrong_ with them. Something uncanny, unnatural, about the way they looked, the way they moved. The humanoid things rushed at the man in red, only to be slashed to ribbons by his blades. They fired bolts of energy at him from their hands, but he evaded their attacks at lightning speed.

This man, the man in red, was more than human. He could have been a mutant, or an "enhanced" human like the Avengers or Fantastic Four. Or maybe he was a Mage, like Shirou's father Kiritsugu Emiya. But one thing was for sure. The man in red was superhuman. And Shirou sensed a kind of purpose, a determination, a courage in every movement he made, every attack he landed.

Shirou knew that this man was a superhero. And Shirou knew that this was exactly the kind of man he dreamed of becoming.

However, Shirou's awe was short lived, as one of the not-quite-human enemies broke apart from the pack assaulting the man in red, and turned its attention to its unwanted observer.

It was at this point that Shirou Emiya started to run for his life.

As Shirou sprinted through the deserted hallway of his high school, he could hear a rhythmic noise behind him. The monster's footsteps, no doubt. There was a resonant clank to them - the sound of metal. Armor, maybe, like the one worn by Iron Man? Were the man in red's foes wearing armor? Shirou had little time to consider these things, however, as he hurried towards safety.

 _The stairs,_ Shirou thought, _If I can make it to the stairs, I can get out of here!_

Shirou Emiya, however, did not make it to the stairs. He heard a new noise behind him as he kept running: a mechanical whirring, combined with a high-pitched drone… followed by the crackling of electricity.

Shirou collapsed as he felt the voltage coursing through him, as if he had just been hit by a taser. He let out an undignified yelp of pain as he fell to the floor. Shirou tried to gather the strength to get back on his feet, but to no avail. All the young Mage had the strength to do was turn on his side, so that he could at least properly face the enemy who pursued him.

The clanking grew louder and louder as the not-quite-human monster came into view. It did indeed have an armored look to it, Shirou was right about that much. The thing was covered head to toe in metal. Its torso was of a dark green color, with its limbs and head being a metallic grey. The monster's armored head resembled a skull, with two glowing red eyes that burned deep into his very soul.

Shirou then came to the realization that, just as he had seen the superheroes he so idolized on TV and the internet time and time again, so too had he seen footage of this monster before. And with this revelation, Shirou's heart sank with pure terror.

"YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND GUILTY IN TRESPASSING IN PRIVATE AFFAIRS," the monster 'spoke' in an electronic monotone. "NONE MAY BE ALLOWED TO KNOW OF THE MASTER'S ACTIVITIES HERE."

The monster raised its right arm, aiming it right at Shirou's crumpled, trembling form. Pale green electricity arced out of its palm as it charged up an attacked. And unlike the last one, Shirou had a feeling that this one wouldn't leave him in one piece. Unable to move, unable to escape, unable to resist, Shirou Emiya closed his eyes and hoped that the pain would be over quickly.

 _"IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE LAW OF LATVERIA, YOU HAVE BEEN MARKED FOR DESTRUCTION BY **DOCTOR DOOM!** "_


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

 _Die Walküre_

"Hang on, did you just say _brother?_ "

Spider-Man reeled back in shock at Lancer's unexpected question. This day was shaping up to be just full of surprises. Peter surveyed the room. Lancer wore a look of distress and disbelief. Doctor Strange and Caster looked just as surprised as Peter at Lancer's revelation. Spider-Man looked back at his seemingly petrified Servant.

"Thor? Like, _the_ Thor?" Peter asked, still wrapping his head around what Lancer had just said. "God of Thunder? Prince of Asgard? _That_ Thor is your brother? Just wanna make sure we're on the same page here."

Lancer let out a deep sigh and stood up. "I have already said too much…" she spoke under her breath. The Servant looked towards Doctor Strange, and put on the most polite smile she could muster. "Good Doctor, wouldst thou mind if my Master and I spoke privately outside?"

Strange took a moment to react, still distracted by the bombshell that has just been dropped on the conversation. "Ah, yes, of course," he replied, clearing his throat. "Please feel free."

"Thank you," Lancer said. While she still made an effort to be polite, she sounded distressed, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. She turned around and strode towards the door. Spidey awkwardly got up and followed his Servant's lead.

The duo exited the study, Lancer carefully shutting the door behind them. She sighed again, as Spider-Man scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"So…" Peter began, his tone noticeably nervous. Very noticeably. "What was all that about, uh…"

"Yes," came Lancer's reply, "I apologize for that… outburst. I realize it must have come as a shock to thee, revealing that sort of information out of nowhere. But, upon hearing his name… I was unable to control my reaction."

Lancer closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on what she wanted to say next. "Now," she continued. "I imagine thou hast many questions as to my identity, especially now that my familial ties hath come to light. So, I suppose there's no point in wasting any more time on the matter."

The Servant took a deep breath, preparing herself for the reveal.

"My true name is Brunnhilde Odinsdottir, and I am a Valkyrie of Asgard."

Once more, Peter could do nothing but stand there in shock for a few moments. "V-Valkyrie?" he repeated. "Brunnhilde? Like, Wagner, _Ride of the Valkyries,_ Bugs Bunny - _that_ Brunnhilde?"

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow, looking down at her Master in confusion. "Master? I don't think I understand…"

Peter waved his hands frantically. "Uh, forget about that stuff! That wasn't the important part. Point is, you're, like, the Brunnhilde? Flying in on a winged horse, taking warriors to Valhalla, that kinda thing?"

Lancer smiled. "So, thou hast knowledge of my legend! Very impressive, Master." She was clearly excited, no doubt in part because Peter recognized her real name over Caster's.

Spidey shrugged in response. "Well, you kinda _have_ to brush up on your Norse mythology when you're friends with Thor."

"There it is again!" Lancer exclaimed suddenly, almost interrupting her Master. Her tone was urgent and severe. "Thou claimest that Thor is thy friend… is it true? You know my brother?"

"Uh, yeah!" Peter answered, caught off guard and more than a bit intimidated at Lancer's forcefulness. "Totally! We hang out all the time! Well, not _all_ the time, but pretty regularly! We team up and stuff!"

Lancer stroked her chin in thought. "So, Thor hath begun traveling to Midgard once more…"

"He's been doing that for a few years now, actually," Spider-Man corrected. "Heck, he pretty much lives here full time at this point. I figured everyone in Asgard knew about that."

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow again, intrigued by Peter's words. "He lives in Midgard, you say? Hath he abandoned his role as prince? Odin's beard, could he have been banished?!"

"Uh, nothing like that!" Spidey replied, hoping to calm his Servant down. "Don't worry! But, uh… you wouldn't happen to know what superheroes are, would you?"

The Valkyrie paused for a second before answering. "I am aware of the concept, yes. The Grail granted me some general knowledge of the modern era upon my summoning."

"Ah, neat!" Spidey commented. "That must make things a whole lot easier for you."

Peter realized that this must have been the reason for Caster's use of modern vernacular. So why was Lancer still talking like a Shakespeare character? _Must be an Asgardian thing_ , he thought.

"So, anyway," Spider-Man continued, "Thor's a member of this big hero team called the Avengers. They protect humanity and the world from all kinds of bad stuff. Alien invasions, killer robots, mad scientists, that kinda thing. They're sort of a big deal."

"So, Thor is still protecting mankind," Lancer quietly replied, talking to herself more than her Master. A small smile crept onto her face. "I see… little brother always did have a soft spot for the mortals."

Brunnhilde directed her at Spider-Man once again. "So, Master, I take it thou art one of these 'Avengers'? Given thy garments, clearly thou art among the ranks of Midgard's 'super heroes'."

Spidey looked down at his red and blue costume. He just realized that he had kept it on ever since he first summoned Lancer, yet neither of them had commented on it… for that matter, he never even gave her a proper introduction, did he? So much had happened in the time since Lancer first appeared, neither of them really had the time to process every detail.

"Uh, not quite," Spider-Man clarified. "I am a hero, yeah, but I'm not really an Avenger. I mean, I'd sure _like_ to be, someday, but as of right now, my crime-fighting is strictly limited to New York. Barring a few team-ups with my fellow heroes, that is. Even though I'm not officially a member, I'm on good terms with just about every member of the Avengers. And yeah, that includes Thor. He's kinda my bro. It's pretty great, not gonna lie."

"But, uh, why hasn't he ever mentioned you?" Peter continued. "Thor loves telling stories about Asgard, and all the crazy adventures he's had with Balder, and Sif, and the Warriors Three… but he's never told me about you. I didn't even know he had a sister. Wait, are you his actual sister, or is it like a blood-brother kinda thing?"

Silence fell once more for a few moments, before Brunnhilde spoke up. "About that… thou shouldst know that I was not summoned from the Asgard of the present." Her tone was hesitant, almost sorrowful. "A Heroic Spirit cannot be summoned as a Servant in an era where they already exist. For instance, if thou tried to summon Thor, or Odin, it would be impossible, for they already live within this age."

"Okay… makes sense," Spider-Man responded, unsure where Lancer was going. "But I'm not sure what that has to do with… _oh."_

Lancer gave a solemn nod. "Indeed. The only reason thou were able to summon me for the Grail War… is because I died in battle several hundred years ago."

"Lancer…" Peter's voice was filled with heartbreak. "I'm so sorry… I didn't know-"

"There is no reason to apologize, Master," Lancer reassured, giving Peter a warm, comforting smile. "Thou didst not know. And either way, I am here now. Reborn, to fight once again for the sake of Midgard and Asgard alike!" Lancer's tone became bombastic and triumphant sigh that last line.

"Uh, right!" Peter's poor brain was far too tired to think of any sufficiently heroic things to say, so that would have to do. "But, uh… no offense, but would you mind easing back a bit on the 'thou didst' talk? It's… kinda confusing, to be honest."

"Oh! My apologies, Master!" Lancer exclaimed, more embarrassed than she wanted to let on. "I did not realize that my manner of speaking offended you… I shall do my best to avoid disappointing thee- ah, _you_ , in the future!"

"Uh, it's really not that big a deal…" Spidey replied, intimidated by the amount of passion Lancer put into such a simple task.

"Nonsense, Master!" Brunnhilde emphatically replied. "If I cannot perform even the simplest of tasks, then I'm hardly much of a Servant, am I?"

"Okay, fair enough…" Peter reluctantly conceded. "But would you mind not calling me 'Master'? Like, I know that's the official title and all, but it's just _weird_ , okay?"

Lancer paused for a moment. "What am I to call you then? Peter? I believe that is how the Doctor addressed you."

"Uh, not in public," Spidey instructed. "You're not the only one trying to keep their identity a secret… Spider-Man will do just fine. That's my superhero name, so… yeah."

"Very well then, Spider-Man," Lancer said. She put her right fist over her heart in a sort of salute. "From this moment on, I vow on my honor as a Valkyrie that I shall serve loyally as your shield and your spear, so that we may protect the Holy Grail from the forces of evil, and defend the people of Midgard!"

Impressed by Lancer's over-the-top delivery, Spidey dramatically raised his hand in the air with an operatic flourish, and gave his own declaration. "Alright Lancer, then I vow on my honor as a hero that I shall fight alongside you as your, uh… web! So that we can do those things you already mentioned, because… with great power, there must also come great responsibility!"

The Master and Servant simply stood in awkward silence - a recurring theme for the evening, it would seem - before Peter sheepishly returned to his normal posture. "Okay, so it wasn't really my best material. Gimme a break, it's been a day."

"Indeed!" Lancer chuckled in agreement. "Now, if there is nothing else we must discuss, we should return inside. We don't want to keep the good Doctor waiting."

And so, Lancer opened the door once again, and the duo re-entered the study. Strange was still sitting in his chair as before, but Caster had taken a seat on the same couch Peter was using before, slouching lazily with his feet on the table.

 _That Cuckoo guy took my spot… that's it, any sympathy I had for him is instantly gone._

"Well then, how was your chat?" Strange inquired.

"Very productive, if I do say so myself," answered Spider-Man as he hopped onto another chair, with Lancer taking her same seat as before. "So, what's next on the agenda, Doc?"

"Well," Strange began, "If you're dead set on fighting in the war, and you've sorted everything out with your Servant, then the next order of business is tracking down our opponents in this war."

"Sounds like a plan," Peter agreed. "So, you said the Grail War is always held in Japan, right? You gonna whip us up a portal over there or something?"

"Yes… about that," replied Strange, "I had a conference with the War's overseer several months ago, and I convinced him to move the Holy Grail War from Fuyuki… to here in New York."

"Wait, _here?!_ " Spidey repeated. Somehow, today kept finding new ways to surprise him. "The Grail War's gonna be happening in New York?"

"I know it sounds insane," Strange admitted, "But it's like I said earlier. We need to keep a close eye on this War, make sure nobody gets caught in the crossfire. And what better place to do that then in our own backyard, where the Avengers and SHIELD can be called on at a moment's notice to handle collateral damage?"

Spider-Man stroked his masked chin in thought. "Huh… yeah, I guess that makes sense. Not like ancient heroes fighting over a magic cup is any crazier than alien invasions, or giant monster attacks, or anything else this madhouse of a city deals with every day."

Strange nodded in agreement. "My thoughts exactly. Now, back to our plan of action. I spoke with the Overseer, a priest named Kotomine, this morning. While he never specified how many Servants had been summoned, he indicated that the War would be starting very soon, and that he would be arriving in the city by tomorrow. Which leads me to believe that either the other Masters and their Servants will be arriving soon as well… or that they're already here."

"So we need to find them before they find us," Peter stated.

"Precisely," agreed Strange.

"Now, back up for a second," Spidey said. "Who's this Overseer guy? You said he was a priest, right? So what's a man of the cloth doing in a battle between Mages?"

"Ah, yes. I never explained that part," the Sorcerer Supreme noted. "See, after the disasters that were first two Holy Grail Wars, it was decided that the War couldn't be allowed to go on unmediated any longer. So, from the third Grail War onwards, a representative from the Church has served as an arbiter for the conflict, making sure that all the Masters obey the rules of the War."

"Wait, when you say the Church, do you mean, like the Vatican?" Peter inquired. "Is the Pope secretly refereeing wizard battles in his spare time?"

The Sorcerer Supreme shook his head. "Not quite. The Church I'm referring to isn't affiliated with the Catholic Church at all, aside from taking some general inspiration from it. There exists a secret religious organization known simply as the Holy Church, dedicated to the recovery of holy relics, as well as the extermination of beings deemed 'heretical', be they demons, vampires, or Mages. I trust you remember our battle against Silver Dagger?"

Spider-Man stopped to think for a moment, trying to recall the team-up Strange was referencing. "Oh yeah! Crazy paladin dude."

"He was a rogue member of the Church's Executors," Strange explained. "Heretic hunters. Anyway, since the Church is a third party unaffiliated with the Mages' Association, it would serve as an impartial judge to the Grail War, ensuring that none of the Masters would step out of line and create another bloodbath." Strange paused before adding an addendum to his statement. "In theory, at least."

"Gotcha," Spidey replied. "So, this Kotomine guy is some kinda ninja paladin who's gonna make sure all the Masters play fair? In theory, at least?"

Strange gave a friendly smirk as he nodded his head towards Peter. "You're catching on."

"You left out the part where he's creepy as hell," Caster chimed in, still lounging on the other couch. "Like, I get that he's supposed to be on our side, but the guy just gives me the creeps. That voice of his, it just makes my skin crawl." Caster winced, his face twisting into a sickened grimace.

"Caster, don't insult our allies," Strange ordered his Servant. His voice wasn't commanding, however - the Mage's tone was nonchalant, as if telling a dog to sit.

Cu Chulainn shrugged. "Hey, I'm just giving my two cents on the matter."

The Doctor sighed in response. "Yes, Kotomine can be a bit… dramatic. But ultimately, his goal is to keep the War under some semblance of control, same as us. Now, back to the topic at hand. The Holy Grail War will soon be upon us, and we would do well to find the other Masters and their Servants before they find us."

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Peter asked. "Standard superhero procedure, where we just patrol the city until something interesting happens?"

Strange gave a soft chuckle. "Unfortunately, you may not be wrong. I've tried using scrying spells to locate our opponents, but I've had no success so far. Granted, this may just be because most of our opponents simply haven't arrived in the city yet. However, we can't rule out the possibility that the other Masters have used their own spells to avoid detection."

Peter raised an eyebrow under his mask. "Wait, but you're like, the Sorcerer Supreme, right? How could some B-list Mages counter a spell from you?"

"I never said it was the case for sure," Strange clarified. "But again, we can't rule out the possibility. And it would be foolish to assume that simply because they don't hold my rank, that our enemies won't be forces to be reckoned with."

The Doctor slowly stood up from his seat. "Either way, Caster and I will continue using our magic to try to locate our rivals. In the meantime, Peter you needn't deviate from your usual routine. Know that just because you're fighting in the Grail War, you won't have to give up fighting normal crime. Patrol the city, be on the lookout for unusual activity… let your spider-sense be your guide and all that. Knowing you, I'm sure you'll find an enemy Master in no time… or they'll find you, at least."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'knowing me'?" Spidey objected.

"Oh, I meant no offense," Strange replied, "I was simply referring to the fact that, wherever you go, trouble always seems to follow you."

Spider-Man paused. "... Yeah," he admitted dejectedly, lowering his head in shame. "That sounds about right." _The old Parker luck,_ he thought to himself.

"I'm jealous, kid," Caster spoke up. "I'd rather be out in the thick of things instead of cooped up in this old dump chanting spells all day. I'm dying to see some action over here."

"The sooner you chant those spells," Strange told his Servant, "The sooner you'll get your fight."

"So you keep telling me," Caster sighed.

Doctor Strange ignored Cu's complaints, turning his attention back to Peter. "At any rate, unless you have any more questions, I suggest you go home and get some rest. Tomorrow, the Holy Grail War begins."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Spidey responded as he got up and stretched. "It's been a very long, very confusing day. I still don't think it's really sunk in what's happening right now. I'm about to fight in a centuries-old battle royale between wizards and legendary heroes over a magic cup… y'know, when you put it like that, I guess that pretty much sounds like a normal Wednesday for us, doesn't it?"

The Sorcerer Supreme let out a hearty laugh at the web-head's quip. "Take care, Spider-Man."

"You too, Doc," Peter replied as he turned to leave. Before he could, however, he was stopped by his own Servant speaking up.

"Will I be accompanying you, Master?" Lancer asked, getting up from her own seat.

Spider-Man fell silent for a few seconds. _Crap,_ he thought, _How did I almost forget about Lancer?_

"Uh, I don't think coming home with me would be a good idea," Peter said sheepishly. "I _reeeeally_ don't feel like explaining to my neighbors why a six-foot warrior woman is staying in my apartment… can't you just stay here? There's gotta be some guest rooms or something in between all the magic artifacts, right Doc?"

Lancer's expression changed to one of surprise, before turning serious. "Unacceptable! It is my duty as a Servant to protect you at all times! How can I do that if I am not by your side?"

Spidey raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm a superhero, remember? It's not like I'm defenseless or anything. I appreciate the offer, but - no offense - I don't really need you watching over me 24/7."

"Actually," Strange interjected, "You won't need to worry about hiding Lancer. See, while they look like flesh and blood on the surface, Servants are beings of pure Mana. As such, they can change from physical form to an invisible, intangible, spiritual form at will - as Caster exhibited earlier."

Peter's mood quickly changed. "Wait, seriously? Awesome! Well crap, forget everything I just said then."

"I'm afraid that isn't exactly true in my case…" Lancer said. "See, since my summoning was accidental - not following proper procedure - it seems I cannot enter spiritual form at this time. In other words, Master, your previous concerns are well-founded."

Spidey lowered his head in dejection. "Oh… that's what I get for getting my hopes up," he murmured under his breath.

Doctor Strange stroked his beard in thought. "I see. In that case, then yes, I would be more than happy to provide a room for Lancer. Come to think of it… in the days to come, it might not be a bad idea for you to stay here, Peter."

"Huh? How come?" Spidey asked in confusion.

"Simply as a safety precaution," Strange explained. "Remember, these aren't ordinary super villains we're going up against. These are world-class Mages. I don't doubt that any one of them could discover your civilian identity with a simple scrying spell. Not to mention the Assassin-class Servant we'll have to deal with. Our enemies could easily track you down… as well as those closest to you."

Peter's heart sank. "No… you don't really mean that, do you? Would the other Masters really try to target my friends? My family?" _Gwen?_ Peter thought to himself. "There's gotta be rules against that, right?"

A grave expression took form on Strange's face. "Once again, not every Master is particularly keen on playing by the rules. It pains me to say this, but it might be best to keep your loved ones at arm's length for the duration of the War… in order to keep them as safe as possible."

Peter let out a deep, downcast sigh. "Yeah, I see what you mean. So… how long exactly is this Grail War gonna last? A week? A month?"

"It varies, from what I've read," Strange answered. "But on average, I'd say about two to three weeks."

"Two to three weeks…" Peter repeated under his breath. Weeks without school. Weeks without the Daily Bugle. Weeks without Harry, or MJ, or Aunt May. _Or Gwen._

Lancer spoke up, as if she could read her Master's thoughts. "No one said the life of a warrior would be an easy one. However, this is the path that must be taken, in order to protect the people of this city - of the world. It is our sworn duty as protectors as this realm."

"Our responsibility," Spider-Man added, speaking softly under his breath.

Lancer smiled at her Master, nodding in agreement. "Aye," she said.

"Well then," Strange began, clasping his hands together excitedly, "Unless there's something else anyone wants to discuss, I do believe we're done here."

" _Finally,_ " Caster snarked. "Y'know, there's only so much exposition a man can take in one evening."

The Sorcerer Supreme cleared his throat, ignoring his Servant's complaining. "Anyway, we have our plan in place. Lancer will be staying here in the Sanctum starting tonight. As for you, Peter, it should be safe for you to spend one last night at home before the War properly begins. Tomorrow, however, I suggest you get all your affairs in order. Once again, you can't risk getting your friends or family involved in this."

Spider-Man nodded. "Right… it's for the best," he said, as if he was trying to convince himself.

Lancer raised her arm, and summoned her spear in a flash of light. "Very well then - if we have our plan, then it is time to formally proclaim our alliance!"

Lancer lowered the tips of her spear, holding it outward. Peter gave a soft chuckle. He could see where this was going - it was a cheesy, melodramatic gesture, but one he appreciated nonetheless. Spider-Man placed his hand on the tip of the spear. Strange, catching on, smiled and did the same. Caster let out an annoyed sigh, got up from his seat, and half-heartedly touched the end of his staff to the spear tip. As Spidey glanced over to the proud Hound of Ulster, he noticed that Caster was wearing a small half-smile, in spite of himself.

"Individually, we are heroes," Lancer continued, her voice taking a dramatic, elevated tone. "But joined together, we shall go down in history as _legends!_ With our powers united as one, none shall stand in our way! By our might, we shall crush our opposition, and protect the innocent of this, and every realm! In the name of honor and justice, we shall claim the Holy Grail, and win the victory in this War!"

Caster began laughing as he pulled back his staff. "That was the worst speech I've ever heard, Goldilocks." Caster flashed a toothy, almost canine grin. "But I loved it."

"Thank you for that, Lancer," Strange concurred, removing his own hand from Brunnhilde's spear. "I think we all needed the added morale."

Lancer's spear disappeared as she gave a small bow. "You are quite welcome, good Doctor."

"Well, I'm gonna rest up before the big day," Spider-Man said as he began to back away. "On the off chance that I wake up and realize this wasn't all some messed up fever dream, I'll check back in tomorrow. It's been real, everybody!"

"Farewell, Mas- er, Spider-Man," Lancer said. "I look forward to fighting alongside you."

"Seeya, kid," Caster called out, having already returned to laying on the couch. "Nice tights, by the way."

"Thank you, Peter," Doctor Strange spoke, a sense of bittersweet sincerity in his tone. The Sorcerer Supreme gave an ironic smile. "And welcome to the Holy Grail War."

As Spider-Man turned to exit through the door, he left with one final quip. "Hope I survive the experience."

 _Later that night_

Rin Tohsaka examined her surroundings as she sat cross-armed in the seat of the private jet. If someone told her just a few days ago that entering the Holy Grail War would cause her to end up on a plane to New York with Shirou Emiya, she'd have called them insane. And yet, here she was.

The plane, provided by the Holy Church thanks to the "generosity" of Kirei Kotomine, was a small one, with the rather cramped cabin only having four seats, arranged in a square formation. The seat directly in front of Rin was vacant, but the two to her right were occupied by her unexpected allies in the Holy Grail War.

Seating directly to Rin's right was a lanky young man with a messy head of auburn hair, which somewhat resembled a bird's nest in appearance. His clothes were simple and casual in nature - he wore a long sleeved blue and white t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans.

 _Shirou Emiya._ Rin would have been saved a whole lot of trouble in the last 24 hours were it not for Shirou Emiya.

Rin and Shirou, despite being classmates at the same school, had never really interacted beyond the odd impersonal greeting. Rin knew of Emiya's reputation as the "Fake School Janitor" or "Homurahara's Brownie", nicknames given to him due to his hobby of cleaning up and repairing broken appliances around the school. Rin also knew that he was a former member of the school archery club, and that he was a close friend of her underclassman, Sakura Matou. While Rin wasn't particularly close with Sakura, she was all too familiar with her older brother Shinji - a petty, self-centered brute of a boy who served as a frequent annoyance to Rin.

The trouble began the night before, when Rin detected magical activity at Homurahara Academy. Upon investigating the disturbance, Rin and her Servant, Archer, were ambushed by a small army of silver and green robots. The skull-like visage they wore was instantly recognizable to Rin - it was the mask of Doctor Victor von Doom, one of the most infamous Mages in the world.

And, considering Doom would have no other conceivable reason to attack her, he was likely fighting in the Holy Grail War just as Rin was.

No pressure.

Archer, despite being outnumbered, managed to make short work of the Doombots with his superior combat ability, though neither he nor Rin counted on an outsider getting wrapped up in the conflict. And yet, Shirou Emiya.

After eliminating the attacking Doombots, Rin found Shirou collapsed in the hallway. He was on death's door, fatally wounded by one of Doom's mechanical emissaries. Despite Archer's urgings that she leave the boy be, Rin couldn't bear to abandon him if any hope existed that he could be saved.

Due to the severity of Shirou's injuries, however, Rin was forced to use up her last resort - she exhausted every last bit of Mana contained in her ruby pendant - the pendant her father left her before his untimely death. One of the only things she had to remember him by. And she used all the power within it to save the life of a boy she barely knew.

 _Idiot,_ Rin thought to herself.

 _I told you, you should have just left him_. A foreign voice echoed in Rin's mind - a deep, stoic-sounding voice. The voice of Archer, Rin's Servant, currently watching from his spiritual form. _Mages aren't supposed to get sentimental, remember? You can't expect to win the Grail if you're going to stop to save every cat stuck in a tree._

 _Wasn't planning on it,_ Rin replied mentally. _He was just…. a special case, is all._

 _Well, there must be **something** special about him,_ Archer continued, _Considering he managed to summon a Saber at his skill level._

Rin looked over at the figure sitting in the chair across from Shirou. There was a girl, dressed in a yellow raincoat that covered most of her body. Beneath the yellow hood, Rin could make out the young woman's stern-looking face, striking green eyes, and a head of golden blonde hair. Beneath the coat, she was wearing a fancy, antiquated-looking blue dress, and an ornate silver breastplate.

Saber. Said to be the most powerful class out of the seven types of Servant. And instead of having a skilled prodigy like Rin as her Master, one who's spent her whole life training for this War… she winds up in the hands of a total novice.

 _Idiot,_ Rin repeated.

And yet, Rin couldn't complain too much. She had forged an uneasy alliance with Shirou, meaning that Saber would be fighting on her side. She told Shirou she was helping him out of pity, yet part of her enjoyed the idea of having an ally in the Grail War. Someone she could trust. Not that she'd ever admit that, of course. A Mage is supposed to be solitary, independent. Reliant on none, trusting none. Unclouded by emotion. Coldhearted, yet elegant.

That's what Rin's father told her, at least, shortly before he passed. Her father. Tokiomi Tohsaka. The consummate Mage, at least in Rin's eyes. In many ways, her entire life was devoted to emulating him, honoring his memory. Rin strove to be the same sort of Mage he was: perfectly elegant and coldhearted.

That's why Rin was so determined to enter the Holy Grail War in the first place. Tokiomi was only the latest in several generations of Tohsaka Mages who dedicated their lives to claiming the Grail, in hopes of using its power to reach the Root - the source of all life in the universe, and a reservoir of infinite knowledge. The Tohsaka clan had dreamed of reaching the Root for generations upon generations, and Tokiomi was no different.

However, Tokiomi tragically lost his life in the Fourth Holy Grail War ten years ago, losing his chance at the Grail just as it entered his grasp. Since then, Rin was determined to claim the Grail for herself, finally fulfilling the dream her father never lived to accomplish.

And yet, she wasted her father's beloved pendant saving Shirou Emiya, of all people.

 _Idiot._

 _Y'know,_ Archer cut in, _For such an idiot, you spend an awful lot of time thinking about him._

 _Shut your noncorporeal mouth right now, or I'll use another Command Spell to shut it for you._

 _Yes ma'am._ Even if he was in spiritual form, Rin could sense the smug, self-satisfied smirk on Archer's face.

"When the hell is this thing gonna land?!" Rin shouted impatiently.

Saber glared towards Rin. Emiya's Servant didn't seem too fond of Rin. She wasn't the trusting sort. In this War, that was a good mindset to have.

"I think we should be there in about thirty minutes," Shirou answered, looking over at Rin with a big, friendly smile on his face. _Too_ friendly, Rin thought. He looked like an absolute goofball. Emiya could stand a learn a few things from his Servant.

"It's crazy, huh?" Shirou continued. "In just a few minutes, we'll be in New York City! I mean, this whole Grail War thing is kinda overwhelming, but how cool is that? New York, the superhero capital of the world! Certainly more exciting than fighting this War in Fuyuki, huh? I wonder if we're gonna see any heroes while we're here?" Shirou's good-natured grin had grown even bigger, his excitement building with every word.

"Not much of a superhero fan," Rin replied curtly, brushing her classmate off.

"What?!" Shirou exclaimed in shock. "How can you say that? _Everyone_ loves heroes! You're saying you don't even like Captain America? Iron Man? Thor?"

Rin shrugged, irritated beyond words at Emiya's irrepressible enthusiasm. "I don't get what the big deal is. So what if they can leap tall buildings or shoot beams out of their hands? Magic can do all that too, and it doesn't require you to put on any corny-looking costumes."

"But the costumes are the best part!" Shirou insisted, beaming with childlike joy. "There's a real mystery to being a hero, a kind of… theatricality!"

"Oh, don't talk to me about theatricality!" Rin retorted. "I know theatricality. I'm a Mage, I live and breathe theatricality! Being a superhero? That is _not_ theatricality. That's a bunch of grown men and women playing dress-up. There's no dignity in it!"

"No dignity?!" Shirou repeated indignantly. "Being a superhero is all about protecting people, saving lives! It's about selflessness, honor, sacrifice… that kinda thing! Being a hero is the most noble thing somebody can do…"

Rin was almost impressed by the sheer passion in Shirou's words. She glanced over at Saber, noticing that her expression seemed a bit concerned, distressed even. "Wow, you're really getting fired up over this," Rin remarked.

Shirou's honest smile returned. "I've always loved heroes, ever since the Fantastic Four showed up. I've dreamed of becoming one for as long as I can remember."

" _Wonderful_ ," Rin uttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You really think so? Thanks!" Shirou's gratitude was absolutely sincere. How dense was this kid?

 _This is gonna be a long Grail War,_ Rin thought.


	6. Squirrel Dojo 1

_Meanwhile, in a completely different sort of reality…_

The time: unknown. The place: a mysterious dojo. Well, sort of mysterious. Okay, not really mysterious at all. It's clean, no damage or anything, got some nice natural light coming in the windows… pretty nice place, actually. Of course, it could stand to be a little more interesting to look at. Maybe get a rug, that'd be nice. Really tie the room together.

"Hey, omniscient narrator! Knock it off, this is my time to shine here!"

Oh, right! Sorry! _Ahem._ The person shouting just now was a Japanese woman, somewhere in her mid-twenties, with short hair of a light brown color - a color matched by her eyes. She was wearing a white and blue kimono, and holding a bamboo sword in her hands - the type used by practitioners of kendo.

"It's called a shinai!"

Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't know there was an official name for it…

"And I'm pretty sure you used the term 'kimono' inaccurately. I bet you call every Japanese sword a 'katana' too, don't you!"

That's it, I'm done! If you want the spotlight so badly, then take it away! I'll be in my trailer until something interesting happens.

"Alright!" The woman exclaimed excitedly. "Face front, true believers! The Amazing Tiger-Man, Hero of Justice, is here!" She let out a chuckle of amusement. "Nah, I'm just kidding! It's me, Taiga Fujimura, every Type-Moon fan's favorite fourth-wall-breaking kendo master-slash-English teacher! And I'm here today to kick off a very special portion of this fan fiction! But first, it's time to introduce my co-host! Student number two!"

Out of nowhere, as if from off-screen, (off-page?) an adorable-looking girl with a large, bushy tail ran up to Taiga's side. A squirrel with a pink bow tied around its neck rode on her shoulder, with several more squirrels following behind her.

"Ta-da!" The girl exclaimed, striking a dramatic pose with an infectiously cheerful grin on her face. "Doreen Green, the Unbeatable Squirrel Girl, reporting for duty! It's a real honor to be here!"

"Normally, the Tiger Dojo's Student Number One - that is, Illya - would be my comedic foil for stuff like this!" Taiga explained, speaking to nobody in particular, as if she was addressing some unseen audience. "But she's busy rehearsing her lines for when she finally shows up in the main story!"

"Spoilers, Miss Taiga!" Squirrel Girl interjected, a worried look on her face.

"Oh, that's not a spoiler!" Taiga retorted. "Illya's one of the most popular characters in the franchise, of course she's gonna show up sooner or later! A real spoiler would be if I told them about the eighth Mas-"

"OKAY, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Squirrel Girl shouted, interrupting Taiga before she said too much. "But you know, speaking of franchises, it just occurred to me. What if somebody reading this story is familiar with one of the franchises in the crossover, but not the other? Like, what if there's somebody looking for a good Marvel story, but doesn't know anything about Fate? They wouldn't even know who you are, in that case! None of this would make any sense to them!"

Taiga raised her fist defiantly, her gaze burning with resolve. "Nonsense! The narration in Chapter 3 clearly states that I'm Shirou's guardian! And if anyone needs to brush up on their Fate lore, then they can just read the Visual Novel! Honestly, who reads a crossover if they only know one of the franchises in it?"

Squirrel Girl held a hand up to her mouth and turned to the side, a cautious look on her face. "Psst, don't listen to her!" she whispered. "If you're new to Fate, just watch _Fate/Zero!_ The VN isn't available legally outside Japan anyway…"

Taiga cleared her throat conspicuously. " _Ahem!_ Anyway, it's time we explained what this fun little segment is all about! Fans of the original _Fate/Stay Night_ VN will fondly remember the Tiger Dojo, a special hint corner for players unfortunate enough to arrive at a Bad Ending! It was fun, helpful, and completely ruined the otherwise serious tone of the story! But most importantly, it was fun!"

"So in the proud tradition of the Tiger Dojo," Squirrel Girl continued, "Miss Taiga and I are here to provide some much-needed comic relief amidst all the drama and exposition that inevitably comes with a Fate/Marvel crossover!"

"That's exactly right, Student Number Two!" Taiga bombastically declared. "These little interludes will

pop up at semi-regular intervals to break up the action of the main story with comedy and commentary! Think of me and Doreen as the announcers at a wrestling match, or the Chorus of a Greek play, for all you Theatre Majors out there!"

"A Greek Chorus, for an anime/comic book crossover fic…" Squirrel Girl pondered, stroking her chin in thought. "I guess that would make us some kind of… _Geek Chorus?_ "

Taiga was unamused by her student's pun. "Boooo! Humor in the Tiger Dojo doesn't come from forced puns! It comes from meta humor that's hilarious to the people working behind the scenes on the story, but usually just leaves the audience scratching their heads in confusion! We have to joke about budget cuts, unused story ideas, that kinda thing!"

"Oh, got it!" Squirrel Girl replied. "Kinda like how my ongoing series is always lampooning the various tropes and shortcomings of the modern comic book industry?"

"Now you've got it!" Taiga proclaimed, snapping her fingers excitedly. "You'll fit in just fine here, Student Number Two!"

"Heck yeah!" Squirrel Girl jumped in the air and let out a yell of triumph. "But you know, it just occurred to me. Is it really the Tiger Dojo if it's a crossover story? I mean, the original Dojo was you and Illya's thing. Don't we need a little rebranding if I'm the new co-host?"

Taiga let out a long " _Hmmmm_ " as she thought long and hard about the query. "That's it!" she declared, snapping her fingers again. "We'll call this new segment… Squirrel Dojo!"

Doreen let out a squeal of pure glee, cradling her bow-wearing squirrel as she hopped up and down like the multiverse's cutest bouncing ball. "Do you hear that, Tippy Toe? We have our own segment named after us!"

"As for what the newly branded Squirrel Dojo will have to offer to our loyal readers," Taiga explained, "In addition to providing general observations and insight on the goings-on of the main story, we'll also have special guests from both the Fate and Marvel universes! Think of this as a sort of late night talk show, but for a fanfic!"

"Besides that," continued Squirrel Girl, "We'll also be answering reader questions in every episode! So be sure to send us those questions!"

"Just make sure they're good ones!" Taiga commanded, her tone full of frustration. "Don't even _think_ about sending us any crappy questions like 'Will Character X be showing up in the story' or 'Who would win in a fight'. I mean _real_ questions!"

"Well, I think that about wraps it up!" Squirrel Girl proclaimed. "We don't have any guests or questions this time, so we'll see you in the next-"

 _"Now wait just a minute!"_

Suddenly, another voice spoke up - one that was neither Taiga nor Squirrel Girl. A loud explosion shook the dojo as the back wall blew apart violently. Out of the smoke, a figure leapt through the air, before landing semi-gracefully on the ground. The figure was dressed in a full-body red and black jumpsuit, covered in various weapons. Two katana were sheathed on his back, and he had a gratuitous amount of seemingly useless pouches on his belt.

"Awww yeah!" The intruder shouted, giving a dramatic 'thumbs up' gesture. "Deadpool is in the house! You didn't think you could get away with a skit like this without inviting the OG Marvel fourth wall breaker, did you?"

"Nobody invited you, Deadpool!" Squirrel Girl shouted, uncharacteristically angry. "Besides, technically She-Hulk did the fourth wall bit before you did!"

"Oh, again with the She-Hulk thing!" Deadpool groaned. "Everyone always likes to bring that up! When was the last time she even did that, though? Not since the Dan Slott run, at least! Face it, nutcase, I've cornered the market on meta humor! I figure that _at least_ earns me a co-host spot, amirite?"

" _What?!_ " Taiga yelled indignantly. "No way! We can't have two Marvel hosts, we have to keep it balanced! One Marvel host, one Fate host, that's the deal! Besides… if I wanted overused memes on this show, I would have made a 'People die if they are killed' joke by now!"

Deadpool's eyes (Eye-holes? Lenses? You get the idea.) went wide with anger. " _Ex-cuse me?!_ I'm a beloved pop culture icon! I'm one of the most popular characters Marvel has right now! I have depth, character development, a tragic backstory! I'm played by _Ryan #@$ Reynolds!_ I am _so much more_ than just memes!"

 ** _The memes are important, though,_** a voice in Deadpool's head added - one that, if portrayed in a visual medium, would surely have manifested as a little yellow box.

Taiga slapped her palm against her forehead in frustration. "Ugh, I can't believe I miss Illya… I'd take that little psychopath over this moron any day…"

"Oh, come on!" Deadpool shouted. "You'd seriously prefer a wannabe _Fullmetal Alchemist_ villain in gym shorts as your co-host over the gorram Merc with a Mouth? No respect, no respect I tells ya! Please don't tell me the basement-dwelling neckbeards reading this fic share that kinda taste…"

With every word out of the crimson-clad killer's mouth, Taiga's fury only grew. By now, she was absolutely fuming with anger. "Get out of my dojo _right now,_ before I show you the full power of the Tora Shinai!"

As Taiga brandished her bamboo sword menacingly towards Deadpool, the mercenary responded in kind by unsheathing his dual katana. "Alright, now we're talking! Time to go all Archer on this business!"

Before the duel could begin, however, a massive horde of squirrels, dozens or even hundreds strong, swarmed in from every angle, drowning the masked man in their fuzzy wrath.

"OH, NO! NOT THE SQUIRRELS! NOT THE SQUIRRELS! AAAAAHHHHH! OH, THEY'RE IN MY EYES! MY EYES! AAAAHHHHH! AAAAAGGHHH!"

Taiga put down her shinai, giving Squirrel Girl a satisfied grin. "Nice work, Student Number Two!"

"My pleasure!" Squirrel Girl replied, giving a salute. "Someone had to take that loudmouth down a peg…"

"This changes nothing!" Deadpool yelled, still drowning in squirrels. "I'm still gonna be in every episode!"

"No you're not!" Taiga yelled back.

"Am too!"

"He's really not, though," Taiga stated, looking out into space as if facing a camera that wasn't there.

"I think he's just mad cause he knows he won't be showing up in the main story…" Squirrel Girl whispered.

"Well, that's all the time we have for now, folks!" Taiga cheerfully announced, the tempest of squirrels still raging behind her. "We'll see you next time… whenever that is! We really don't have a set schedule for these things worked out yet…"

"But until then…" Squirrel Girl continued.

 _"Excelsior!"_

Taiga and Squirrel Girl delivered the catchphrase in unison, striking suitably dramatic poses in order to close out the episode as Deadpool's screams of pain echoed behind them, muffled by a mountain of fur.

 _Next time: DOCTOR DOOM!_


	7. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

 _Madvillainy_

"Doom's log: January the 22d, 2017. Today is a very important day for this universe - all universes - for this is the day that Doom's ultimate triumph shall be set in motion."

Victor von Doom - the man notorious worldwide as the feared supervillain Doctor Doom - spoke to himself as he stood in his private laboratory. Located in the bowels of Castle Doom, the Doctor's seat of power in his kingdom of Latveria, the lab was a menacing synthesis of old and new. The walls and floor were made of stone, like the rest of the centuries-old structure. The contents of the room, however, were hundreds if not _thousands_ of years ahead of their time. The vast chamber was filled with computers, futuristic-looking machines, and various devices of both technological and mystical origin - the vast majority of which were of Doom's own invention. Doom's creations were cold and brutalistic in design, a stark contrast to the more colorful, elaborate styles employed by his rivals.

The most important fixture in the room, however, at least at this moment, was the circular, arcane-looking design carved into the center of the room.

"The summoning circle has been prepared," Doom continued, his metal boots making a clanking sound as he paced around the room. The Doctor cut an imposing figure as he strode about - the cape of his emerald cloak flowing gracefully behind him, his body encased in his trademark titanium armor, and of course, his face hidden beneath his infamous metal mask - the mask of Death itself.

"At last," said Doom, "The time has come for Doom to enter the Holy Grail War." Doom raised his left hand, and with a thought, the machinery in his gauntlet began to whir and shift. The gauntlet became "unlocked", so to speak, disconnecting from the rest of the armor.

Doom removed his gauntlet, placing it on a nearby table. The Doctor carefully examined the back of his left hand, and the Command Seal emblazoned upon it. The brand was comprised of a single, central pillar - like a spear, or a scepter - enclosed by two symmetrical, jagged brackets. The mark was blood red in color, as if heralding some bloody fate. Victor, however, saw the Seal not as an omen, but as a signal of opportunity.

"It has been over a month since Doom's Command Seal first manifested," Doom explained. While nobody else was in the room to hear the tyrant's soliloquy, a recording device in his armor picked up every word. In fact, Doom always recorded everything he said - for posterity's sake, as the man himself would put it.

"The moment I discovered the mark's appearance, I put all preexisting plans on hold," the Doctor continued. "If the Holy Grail War ends as I intend it to, no further operations will be necessary… Yes. The Holy Grail War. Doom had some passing familiarity with the ritual before last month's events, but I never expected to become directly involved in it… upon further research however, this War may indeed be the chance Doom has long sought after."

Doom had performed extensive research in the past month on the Grail War and its history, thanks to the records he had… _procured_ … from the Mage's' Association. Doom had learned of how the War originated over 200 years ago as a ritual created by three Mage families - the Einzberns, the Tohsakas, and the Makiris. He learned of the ritual's original purpose, as an attempt by the Einzbern clan to recover the lost power of the Third Magic.

The Third Magic, also called Heaven's Feel - the materialization of the soul. Through its power, one could prevent their soul from leaving the physical plane, thus effectively granting true immortality. Doom scoffed at the idea of the "True Magics" - five rare and ancient sorceries that could only be accomplished by the use of the mystic arts, in contrast to regular Magecraft which merely replicates that which is possible through science. In Doom's experience, he had found science and magic to be one and the same. Thaumaturgy, while an arcane and eldritch form of science, was a science all the same in Victor's eyes. Either way, the Latverian monarch's work had debunked the idea of "True Magic" - after all, he had used his technological prowess to travel through not just time, but the Multiverse as well - actions once thought to be the domain of the Fifth and Second Magics, respectively. At any rate, however, it wasn't the Einzbern family's motivation for pursuing the Grail that had captured Doom's interest.

"For generations, the Tohsaka family has sought after the Fuyuki Grail, believing that it could serve as a gateway to the Root - a realm beyond time and space, said to be the source of all life in the universe, as well as a compendium of all knowledge in existence - past, present, or future.

"Little is known about this Root," Doom continued, "aside from mere legends and theories. In my research, I have found that it has been known by many names throughout the ages - some call it the Akashic Records, to others it is Heaven. However, Doom believes that its true name is something else entirely… _Eternity_."

Doctor Doom began pacing with greater speed, moving as if with single-minded purpose as his monologue became more impassioned. "In this world," Victor said, "there are great beings beyond mortal comprehension, who govern the very laws of the universe. Among these beings, these Cosmic Abstracts, there exists Eternity - the metaphysical embodiment of time within this dimension, as well as the collective consciousness of all life in the universe. Eternity, in other words, _is_ the universe - the very concepts of life and time, given a mind and soul.

"Very few Mages on Earth know of the Abstracts - Doom is perhaps the only mortal besides the Sorcerers Supreme to discover their existence firsthand. As such, it stands to reason that all information on the Root is a result of inferior Magi possessing limited understanding of Eternity's true nature. As of now, this is all merely a theory… but if there is even the slightest chance that winning this Holy Grail could allow Doom to claim the power of the universe itself… well then, there's no question as to whether Doom should involve himself in the affair, is there?"

Doom came to a halt, turning to face the summoning circle. "After crafting this theory, Doom began looking into the other parties involved in the War. Regarding the enemy Servants, it is doubtful that any information will arise until the War's proper beginning. Even then, the Heroic Spirits typically hide their true names behind their Class titles, but discerning those should be child's play for one such as Doom.

"As for the opposing Masters, little information has surfaced in that front as well, at this time at least. The only present leads are the three founding families of the ritual, who have all participated in every preceding Grail War. Foremost among them is the Einzbern clan, supposedly one of the more prestigious Magus families in the world today. Doom is not impressed. Nothing but a bunch of conceited alchemists who use homunculi to fight their battles for them… they will not be a problem.

"Then there's the Makiri - or rather, the Matou family, as they're presently known after moving to Japan. They're even less of a concern than the Einzberns - from what Doom can tell, their bloodline has proved incapable of producing any more Mages. It's entirely possible that they won't be able to participate in this War at all… the only potential concern is the family head. Zouken Matou, formerly Zolgen Makiri - a conniving old worm, judging by the Association's records. It may be wise to keep an eye on him, just as a precaution.

"The most obvious threat out of the three families is the Tohsaka house," Doom commented. "While the family patriarch perished ten years ago in the previous Grail War, his daughter Rin Tohsaka seems to be something of a prodigy. Were she a decade or two older, she could prove to be a formidable opponent… currently, however, she is still a mere apprentice Mage. Still, it would be best to eliminate her as soon as possible. Only after she summons her Servant, of course… otherwise another Mage would simply take her place."

Victor let out a deep exhale before beginning a new thought. "On the subject of Servant-summoning, that is the matter that faces Doom today. It was no simple matter determining which legendary figure would best suit Doom's ambitions in this War… after all, what so-called 'hero' could possibly be worthy of executing Doom's will? Arjuna? Zhuge Liang? Gilgamesh? Perhaps a fellow conqueror would be a more suitable partner - Genghis Khan perhaps, or Alexander the Great? No… the competing ego would be too much trouble. Doom's past alliances with Namor and Kang, among others, have made that clear. It's said that the Grail chooses a Master's Servant based on their nature… but why would Doom ever trust the judgment of a sentient cup?

"No, the only legend worthy of being Doom's Servant would be one of the gods themselves!" Doom proudly proclaimed, his tone imperious and grandiose as he raised his hand in a melodramatic gesture, as acting on a Shakespearean stage.

"Though, upon further research," Doom continued, his words taking an exasperated tone, "It seems that divine beings are incapable of being summoned under the Fuyuki Grail system… a symptom of incompetence on the behalf of its creators, clearly. However, there were some most interesting writings from those swaggering clods from the Association that posed a possible solution to that particular hindrance… a fact that those fools should be honored beyond words by.

"An alleged 'Mage' by the name of Lord El-Melloi II proposed the idea of a 'Pseudo-Servant' - a Servant being summoned via possession of a human host, effectively granting a human the power of a Heroic Spirit. According to the theory, it could even be possible for a divine being to be summoned under the Fuyuki system. The catch, of course, is that the sheer power contained in the soul of any Heroic Spirit, let alone a divine one, would be more than enough to overwhelm and destroy a normal human soul."

Doom gave a soft, amused chuckle, his lips forming into a tiny smirk beneath his mask. "But, of course… Doom is so much more than a normal human. Naturally, this 'Pseudo-Servant' theory caught Doom's interest right away. After all, why rely on the power of a Servant to win this War when I could simply harness that power for myself? Of course, nothing even close to this has ever been attempted in the history of the Holy Grail War… but if it can be done, who else but Doom could accomplish such an ingenious feat?

"Once this course of action was decided, the only remaining question was this: whose power would Doom wield in this Grail War? Not some dolt of a deity like Odin or Zeus - no, it would need to be a far greater force… perhaps not quite on par with the Cosmic Absracts, but the next best thing, certainly.

"In my travels throughout this universe and beyond, Doom has heard tell of a being known as Galactus - a devourer of worlds, once counted among the Abstracts as a brother. It is said that Galactus had mastery over the Power Cosmic - a force that allowed him to bend the very fabric of reality to his will. The devourer's name is spoken in hushed whispers throughout every galaxy, a sign of the sheer terror he inspired in all who knew of him. He traversed the universe in a vessel the size of a star system, destroying innumerable planets and feeding on their energy.

"However, many centuries ago, Galactus was destroyed, betrayed by his own Herald. This Herald - an emissary of the devourer, who scouted the stars in search of worlds for his master to costume - was known by many names to many species. The Shi'ar called him the Seeker. To the Skrull, he was the Angel of Destruction. The Herald's most common moniker, however, was the Silver Surfer. It seems that the Surfer had grown tired of facilitating his master's destruction, and sacrificed himself to destroy Galactus. Such heroic nonsense…"

Doom trailed off, becoming lost in thought for a few moments. "At any rate," he continued, beginning to pace through the lab once more, "The process of summoning a specific Servant, rather than one chosen by the Grail, requires the use of a Catalyst - a relic of some sort connected to the Heroic Spirit's legend. Tracking down an artifact tied to Galactus was no simple task… however, there is nothing Doom cannot accomplish."

The lord of Latveria walked over to a table on the far side of the room - one covered with assorted devices and lab equipment. Lying in the center of the table was a charred chunk of metal, engraved with intricate, alien-looking markings.

"Doom acquired this piece of debris from a seedy little bazaar on Knowhere," Doom explained, picking up the Catalyst. "Supposedly, it's a fragment of the wreckage from Galactus' Worldship. Doom used a truth charm on the merchant to ensure he was being honest… either the Catalyst is the genuine article, or that merchant was incredibly good at believing his own lies."

Victor strode over to the summoning circle, and placed the Catalyst in the center of it. "... Hmm. It occurs to Doom that there are no instances on record of alien Servants being summoned in the Holy Grail War… ah well. I've gone much too far with this plan to turn away now. _Let the summoning begin!_ "

With a dramatic swish of his cape, Doctor Doom stepped before the summoning circle, and began to chant. "Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill. Let each be turned over five times, breaking asunder the fulfilled time. Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my mother, Cynthia von Doom, be the ancestor. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. From the crown, let the three-forked road to the kingdom rotate."

A silver light began to emanate from the summoning circle. Doom stretched out his left hand, his Command Seal glowing intensely as his chanting became more impassioned. "Let it be declared now! Let Doom's will become your will, and your power become Doom's power! If you heed the Grail's call and obey Doom's dominion, then answer Doom's summons!"

A burst of Mana erupted from the summoning circle like a great gust of wind, as mystical energy arced like electricity. The devices around the lab began to shake. Doom stood his ground.

 _"I hereby swear… that I shall be all the order in this world! That I shall obliterate all the chaos in this world! From beyond time and space, by the power of Infinity and Oblivion, come forth, arbiter of the cosmic balance!_ ** _Arise, Galactus! And become one with your Lord and Master!"_**

A massive bomb-burst of energy surged from the circle. The sound was deafening, like a thunderclap. Monitors shattered. Machines were battered and toppled. Stone was cracked. But all the same - Doom stood his ground.

Doom brushed away the smoke from the explosion with a wave of his hand. He felt… nothing. He didn't feel any more powerful, and he certainly didn't feel in any way merged with the soul of a cosmic being. Victor blinked in surprise - a rare emotion for the Latverian autocrat - as he looked down at the Command Seal on his hand. Had Doom really failed to call forth Galactus' spirit? Was the summoning a failure?

As the smoke cleared, the Doctor looked up to find that, no, the summoning was not a failure. However, it was not the devourer of worlds that stood before the masked ruler. Rather, at the center of the summoning center was a humanoid figure, kneeling. The being's skin was silver in coloration, seemingly metallic. It was perfectly smooth, hairless, and featureless (save for the figure's face), giving the impression of a classical statue.

The figure was glowing, cloaked in a pulsating aura of silver light. It seemed to be floating - no, not floating. It was standing on something - a long platform of sorts, like a plank, which hovered about a foot over the ground. Upon closer examination, Doom found that the platform most closely resembled a board - a surfboard perhaps.

In that instant, it became all too obvious to Victor what he had done. He had tried to evoke the power of Galactus. Instead, he got his Herald.

The Silver Surfer rose to his feet, looking down solemnly at Doctor Doom with his glowing argent eyes. "You who have summoned me… I ask of you, are you my Master?"

The Surfer's voice was rich and resonant, with an otherworldly echo… but rather than intimidating, there was something warm and kind about his voice, something comforting. Doom, however, was far from comforted by the Herald's presence.

"You…" Victor snarled, a cruel glare appearing in his eye. "You are the Herald of Galactus, are you not? The one called the Silver Surfer!"

The Surfer looked concerned, as if frightened by his Master's sudden anger. "I am Norrin Radd, of Zenn-La," he explained. "But yes, I have been known to some by that title, and I was indeed the devourer's Herald in life. However, I have abandoned that way of life. From this day forward, you are the only Master I serve."

"Well, at least your priorities are where they should be…" Doom sardonically replied. "But summoning you was not Doom's intention. It was your former master who I wished to control… and even then, I had no desire for the devourer himself, merely his Power Cosmic. Doom has no use for a Servant of any kind!"

A look of surprise appeared on the Silver Surfer's face. "My apologies, Master. I did not intend to disappoint you with my presence. However, even if it is not a Servant you desire, I am here to serve regardless. Forgive me for asking, Master, but you attempted this summoning because you seek victory in the Holy Grail War, did you not? I see that you bear a Command Seal."

"You are correct in your assessment," Doom sneered.

The Surfer nodded. "Then please allow me to fight for the Grail on your behalf, Master. I am not Galactus, but I do wield the Power Cosmic. As your Servant, I exist as an extension of your will. If you wish it, Master, I shall see it done. As long as you see fit to command me, I will be your Rider."

The former Herald punctuated his declaration with a humble bow. The gears in Doom's brain began to turn. This was certainly not what Victor expected. Not only had he not gained the power of a Pseudo-Servant, he hadn't even summoned Galactus as he intended. Was Doom's plan truly impossible from the start? Or was this simply some cruel prank on the Grail's behalf?

Then again, this might not be such an unfortunate outcome after all. Even if he hadn't gained the power of the world-eater, Doom still had the Herald of Galactus under his sway. Either way, the Power Cosmic was his to command - what other Heroic Spirit could possibly match the Silver Surfer's might? Yes… victory would surely be Doom's, regardless of the results of his summoning.

A satisfied smile formed beneath Doom's mask. "Very well, Rider," the Doctor haughtily proclaimed. "You may fight in Doom's name in this Holy Grail War. But know this - even the slightest hint of disobedience will _not_ be tolerated. For you, Servant, Doom's word is law. If you so much as _think_ of opposing my control, Doom will not hesitate to use a Command Seal to… _re-educate_ you."

Doom held up his left hand, brandishing his Command Seal menacingly as if waving a gun. The Surfer simply nodded in response. "Understood, Master. I shall not fail you."

"Excellent," Doctor Doom replied, giving an invisible smirk. "Now, Rider, let us be off... _we have much work to do."_


	8. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

 _On the Turning Away_

The night he returned home from the Sanctum Sanctorum, Peter Parker dreamed. Not one of those vivid dreams where one can recall every detail even after waking, however - Peter Parker's dream was more like a series of vague impressions. A loose collection of sights and sounds that almost, but not quite, formed a coherent whole, as if clouded by a thick fog. Another peculiar thing about this particular dream was that Peter didn't seem to be experiencing it firsthand - he wasn't _in_ the dream, as he usually was. He was simply _viewing_ it, like one would watch a movie. No, that wasn't right either… it was like he was viewing the events through someone else's eyes.

Peter saw fire. He couldn't make out much of his evironment, but everything around seemed to be consumed by a roaring inferno - he could tell that much. Peter - or rather, whoever Peter was viewing this scene through the eyes of - stepped forward amidst the flames. The person - this witness to the hellish landscape - walked slowly, limply, as if weakened by fatigue. But they strode on all the same. Whoever this witness was, they were filled with a fire of their own - a determination, a will to move forward in the face of adversity.

Through the witness's eyes, Peter could make out a series of dark shapes scattered around the ground. _Bodies._ Wounded, charred bodies. They seemed to be wearing armor of some sort, and many held weapons in their hands. It wasn't just the fire that did this - this was a battlefield. Peter couldn't tell if any of the warriors were still alive. The witness didn't check. They simply moved ahead, walking over and on the bodies to advance. Peter got the feeling that this wasn't the first time the witness had stood in the middle of a scene like this.

As the witness kept walking forward, Peter began to hear the sound of screaming in the distance. Screams of pain, screams of rage, screams of fear, screams of defiance - they all echoed through the roar of the inferno.

At the end of the witness's path, there was a single figure, standing alone on the scorched earth. As the witness drew closer, Peter could see the figure's features more clearly. It was a man - a young man, judging from his lean build and his boyish face - at least, the parts of it that weren't covered with ash. The young man had blond hair that came down to his shoulders, and held a sword in his hands, which he used to prop himself up like a walking stick. He wore a strained, desperate expression on his face, and was breathing heavily. Peter could tell that the boy was just barely keeping himself from collapsing.

The young man looked up, looking the witness in the eyes. He spoke, but Peter could only faintly make out a few of his words. "Sister, you — out of here! It's not — will destroy you! You can't —"

Peter couldn't make out the rest of the youth's speech. While he could barely hear the boy's voice, something about it seemed strangely familiar. The young man's consciousness finally faded, and he crumbled into the witness's arms - which, as Peter noticed, were covered in silver armor. The witness gently placed the blond youth's body onto the charred dirt, then pulled his sword out of the ground, grasping it firmly in her (or, at least, Peter assumed it was a her, since the boy called the witness "sister") right hand.

The witness looked upward. All that could be seen in the distance was smoke - thick, ominous smoke, as dark as the night sky. Behind the wall of smoke, a vague silhouette could be made out - an enormous, imposing figure, easily a hundred feet tall or more… a tower, maybe? No… this thing was moving. _It was alive._

Suddenly, a golden light pierced the fog, revealing a hill standing a few feet in the distance. Atop the hill, there was another silhouette, this one humanoid, riding atop a horse. Two hornlike shapes extended out of the figure's head - likely a crown or helmet of some sort. And in the figure's hand, there was a long, golden spear, which shone like the sun.

The light the spear gave was one of hope - hope that perhaps the battle could be won, and whatever lives that remained amidst this hell could be saved. It was a blinding light, one which consumed Peter's field of vision, until…

Peter's awakening was a noisy one. There were three distinct, unique noises that he could make out right away. The first, as well as the loudest and closest, was the blaring of Peter's alarm clock. The second, the next loudest after the clock, came from the next room - the kitchen of Peter's apartment. It was music - rap or hip-hop, Peter didn't really know the difference. Finally, there was the third noise, also from the kitchen. While most people probably woudln't be able to hear it clearly over the sound of the alarm, Peter, with his superhuman senses, could clearly hear the tantalizing sizzle of bacon coming from the kitchen.

Harry Osborn was making breakfast.

With an exasperated groan, Peter pulled himself out of bed with all the might his spider-strength could muster, and reached over to turn off his alarm, clumsily fumbling around for the off switch. With a great stretch and a mighty yawn, Peter Parker's morning had begun.

The music grew louder as Peter walked lazily into the kitchen. Peter's roommate, Harry Osborn, was flipping a pancake in his frying pan, clad in a bright pink apron. Harry turned around, greeting his roommate with a cheeky grin.

"Mornin', Pete!" Harry said with his usual exuberance.

"Mornin'," Peter yawned as he took his seat at the kitchen table. "Y'know, no offense, but could you maybe not blast Kanye at 9AM? I'm still nursing a cephalopod-induced hangover here."

"Okay - first of all, dude, this isn't even Kanye. This is Kendrick. So, like, get your facts straight before you criticize." Despite his complaints, Harry nonetheless reached over to turn down the volume on his phone.

"Kendrick LeVar, sorry," Peter corrected, clearly not caring either way.

"Lamar, dude!" Harry chuckled. "Kendrick Lamar. Like Phil LaMarr, not LeVar Burton."

Peter shrugged in response, letting out a tired sigh. "LeVar, Lamar, whatever! I don't know anything about the rap musics anyway. I'm not hip with the youth culture."

Harry laughed as he went back to flipping pancakes. "You are, without a doubt, the most stereotypical nerd ever. I bet you can't even name, like, three popular artists right now."

Peter simply shrugged again. "Guilty of all charges. I'm a nerd, this is known."

Harry glanced at his best friend with a self-satisfied smirk. "You inherited your Aunt's taste in music."

Peter nodded in agreement, a serious expression on his face. "I will take that as a compliment!" he declared confidently. "Aunt May has _fantastic_ taste in music."

"Yeah, that's fair," Harry conceded. "Didn't she, like, go to a David Bowie concert?"

"Queen, I think," corrected Peter.

"Even cooler," Harry replied as he placed a plate in front of Peter - freshly cooked pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. "Breakfast is served."

Peter was practically salivating at the sight of the delicious meal. "Harold Theopolis Osborn, you are the best."

He meant it too - as far as Peter was concerned, Harry Osborn was the absolute best friend he could ask for. Sure, on the surface he seemed like a lazy, obnoxious, perverted loser… mostly because he was indeed all those things. But he had also proved himself to be kind, loyal, and deceptively mature - when the situation called for it, at least. Plus, he had known about Peter's double life for longer than anyone else, and had gone to great lengths over the past five years to guard his friend's secret. (As to how he found out that Peter was Spider-Man, that's an entirely different story far too overly complicated to be expounded upon here.)

Harry sported a look of pride. "I know. And also, never call me Harold again. Or use my middle name. Screw that name. Of all the horrible things my dad has done, that is, without a doubt, the worst."

"Absolutely," Peter jokingly agreed. Though, with his mouth full of eggs, it came out sounding more like ' _ubsluly_ '. Peter swallowed.

The father to whom Harry referred was, of course, Norman Osborn - once the billionaire CEO of Oscorp and one of the biggest tech moguls in the world (rivaled only by Tony Stark), Norman was now incarcerated at Ryker's Island for his crimes as the Green Goblin, one of the most dangerous villains Spider-Man had ever faced. For Harry, the revelation that his father was a supervillain certainly came as a shock at first. To his credit, however, he had since moved on, letting the Goblin's deeds motivate him to escape his father's shadow and find his own path in life.

For instance, while Harry could easily have used his father's fortune to buy the most expensive penthouse in the most expensive building in the city, he chose to live in a modest one-bedroom apartment - he had little taste for a life of luxury anymore, and that sort of thing had never been Peter's style. The two best friends' shared residence wasn't much, but they had learned to call it home. Most importantly, however, it came with a kitchen perfectly suited for Harry to work his culinary magic. He may not have been a genius inventor, but he had other talents.

"Back on topic, though," Harry said, "How did you lose a fight to Doctor Octopus?! You've been kicking that loser's butt since you were, what, thirteen?"

"Fifteen," Peter corrected. "And he got the drop on me, okay? I wasn't prepared." Peter made an irritated look as he poured maple syrup on his pancakes.

Harry chuckled, placing his own freshly made breakfast on the table and taking a seat across from Peter. "Aw shucks," he replied sarcastically, "If only you had some way of noticing danger before it happened… maybe some kind of sixth sense! One of the spidery variety, perhaps!"

Peter pouted in embarrassment as he munched on a bite of pancake. "Okay, so I might have gotten a little cocky… like you said though, I've wiped the floor with Ock and his Sinister Stooges more times than I can count! I feel like I can be forgiven for getting a _little_ overconfident this time."

Harry's smile twisted into a proud smirk of amusement. "See, stuff like this is why you're not an Avenger."

Peter looked up from his breakfast and looked Harry in the eyes. He wore a look of pure shock on his face, as if Harry had just kicked a puppy. "Why would you say that, Harry?" Peter asked in earnest. "You _know_ I'm sensitive about this."

The mortified Harry put a hand against his mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he replied, genuinely apologetic. "I am so, so sorry, Peter. I- I thought it would be funny, I didn't - I didn't know you still-"

"Five years, Harry!" Peter exclaimed, suddenly overcome with passion. "Five years I've tangled with the biggest and baddest this city's had to offer! Kingpin, the Rhino, Carnage!"

"My dad," Harry calmly interjected.

"Wasn't gonna take it there, but that too! And that's not even getting into all the team-ups! Cap, Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Wolverine, the FF - I've swung with 'em all, Harry! Swung with the best!"

"Literally," Harry added, his mouth stuffed with bacon. "Literal swinging was happening."

Peter kept ranting, ignoring his roommate's attempt at humor. "But have I ever gotten an invitation to sit at the cool kids' table? No! You'd think at some point, _somebody_ would be like 'Oh hey Spidey, you're pretty cool, wanna be an Avenger instead of getting crapped on by the press every day?' But here I am, stuck as a street level hero!"

An awkward silence crept across the room as Harry continued calmly eating his breakfast.

"You done?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I… yeah, I'm done," Peter answered, suddenly sheepish. "I… I'm sorry, I dunno what came over me there."

"You're fine, dude, just let it out."

Peter awkwardly cleared his throat. "Uh, anyway, can we, like, change the subject? Please? What were we even talking about earlier?"

"Oh yeah, I was gonna ask," responded Harry, "How come you set an alarm today? Sunday morning, I figured you were just gonna sleep in. 'Specially since you said you got a beating yesterday."

"Ah… right. About that." Peter paused for a moment, letting out a deep sigh. "I… I, uh… let's just say I've got a big day ahead of me."

Harry raised a concerned eyebrow. "Dude, is everything okay?"

"Well…" Peter began, his voice full of anxiety. "To be honest, no. Something's… come up. For Spidey, I mean."

"What's up?" Harry inquired. "Some big new villain in down or something?"

"I wish it was that simple," Peter sighed. "It's, uh… it's way more complicated than that."

As the visibly stressed Peter raised his right hand to rub his forehead, Harry took note of the strange markings on the back of his hand.

"Dude, is that a tattoo? You get that yesterday?"

"Uh… not quite," Peter replied cryptically. "It's… part of that complicated thing. I may have sort of, somehow, accidentally gotten myself involved in this centuries-old battle royale between the world's most powerful wizards."

Harry's eyes grew wide. " _Whoa_. That sounds crazy even by _your_ standards."

"Yep," Peter agreed. "So I'm kinda screaming on the inside right now. I hate magic."

"I'm aware," Harry commented. "You gonna be alright?"

"I hope so," Peter said, idly fiddling with his silverware. "But it's hard to know, y'know? I've been strictly a street level guy until now. This is my first time dealing with a big world-class event like this."

Harry gave a hopeful smile. "C'mon dude, that's not true. What about all those team-ups you've had? Fighting HYDRA, Ultron, Doctor Doom… not to mention you kicked some major ass during that last Skrull invasion!"

"That doesn't count!" Peter groaned, his head lowering in doubt. "I was just playing support for all that stuff… it's not like I've ever beaten one of those A-list villains singlehandledly. I just take down the foot soldiers, or help with a distraction or something. But this? This is gonna be _my fight_ … this is uncharted territory for me. And it's magic. So _that's_ fantastic."

Harry reached across the table, placing a kind hand on his dejected friend's shoulder. "Hey. You're Spider-Man, remember? Big time superhero. You always save the day."

Peter looked up, giving Harry a grave look. " _Not always._ "

Harry looked down awkwardly. "Oh. Yeah…" He forced a smile again, trying to lighten the mood. "But hey, this time'll be different, yeah? What's that thing you always say? With great power, comes-"

"There must also come great responsibility," Peter finished, almost absent-mindedly, as if reciting a speech from memory. "Right. Honestly, that's probably the only reason I let myself get roped into this insanity. But hey, there's a job to be done, people to protect… that's what heroes do, right? Protect people. So… yeah. Like it or not, this is something I have to do."

"Sounds pretty simple when you put it like that," Harry commented.

"Kinda," Peter replied. "But there's a catch. That's kinda why I brought this whole deal up in the first place. I… may need to go off the grid for a couple weeks. Give or take."

Harry's eyes widened. "A couple weeks?" he repeated. "And when you say 'off the grid', how 'off the grid' are we talking here?"

"Like, I won't be seeing you, or MJ, or anyone, until all this magic crap gets wrapped up. No school, no work, nothing. _That_ kind of 'off the grid'." Peter's response carries equal parts gravity and remorse.

" _Oh_. So, all Spidey all the time, huh?" Harry asked. "I mean, I know you said this was a big deal, but that sounds intense…"

"Well, the thing is…" Peter began, "There's a chance, or so I've heard, that the people involved in this war - the people close to them could get targeted. Friends, family, loved ones - they could be at risk. I'm not saying it's gonna happen for sure, but it's possible. So, just to be safe, I think it's for the best that I stay far away from you, Gwen, Aunt May, _everyone_ , while this craziness is going on."

Then, there was silence. It might have been for just a few seconds, it might have been a minute - it didn't matter. Because either way, it felt like an eternity. The two friends sat silently at the table. Neither of them had touched their breakfast for a while.

Eventually, Harry broke the silence. "A couple weeks, you said?"

"Something like that," Peter answered. "Maybe longer. I don't really know."

"Well… like you said, there's a job to be done, yeah? A hero's gotta do what a hero's gotta do." Harry looked his best friend in the eyes, giving him an understanding smile.

Peter smiled back earnestly. "Thanks, man. I mean it."

Harry leaned back in his chair "Hey, don't mention it. If I didn't have to stomach for this kinda stuff, I woulda quit being your friend years ago."

"Seriously, you sure you're okay with this?" Peter asked.

"Oh no, I have no doubt in my mind that I'm gonna be absolutely terrified for you while you're gone," Harry explained, his tone and expression remaining perfectly laid back all the while. "But I'm sure you can handle it. You're Spider-Man, remember?"

Peter chuckled, in spite of himself. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, at least."

"Real talk, though," Harry continued. "You need me to help you with school stuff or anything?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary," replied Peter. "I've already read ahead for all my classes. I should be good."

Harry's eyebrows lifted with surprise, in what was starting to become a regular occurrence for this conversation. " _Damn_. When do you have time to sleep, dude?"

"I don't, honestly," Peter admitted with a smile.

"So, what's your plan from here? You just gonna take off after this?"

"Not yet. I still have some more goodbyes I have to make… I shudder to think of what Jolly Jonah's gonna say. I'm gonna text Gwen, see if we can meet at the Coffee Bean in a little while. After that, I'm gone."

"Sounds like a plan," Harry said. "But first, two things."

"What's that?" asked Peter.

"First of all…" Harry stood up from his seat, and extended his arms out wide. "You're gonna come here and give your best friend a hug."

Peter couldn't help but grin. He got up, walked over to Harry, and did just as he requested. Another great thing about having Harry Osborn as a friend: he gave amazing hugs.

"Thanks again, Harry," said Peter. "For everything. Seriously."

"Any time, bro," Harry responded, backing away from the hug. "Now, as for number two…"

"Yeah?"

Harry gave a cheeky smile. "You're gonna sit down and finish your damn breakfast. Seriously, I worked hard on it and I am _not_ letting it go to waste."

Peter laughed at his roommate's joke. And so, the two friends sat down to enjoy their breakfast - as far as either of them knew, it could be the last one they'd ever share.

As much as Peter adored web-swinging, there were times when he found it better to take the mundane route, and walk the streets of New York just as any normal civilian would. Sometimes he wanted to feel closer to the everyday people on the ground, sometimes he just wanted a change of pace… today, however, Peter just wanted to enjoy strolling down the busy sidewalks of the Big Apple one more time before abandoning his civilian life - temporarily, at least.

At the moment, Peter was standing by the front archway of Empire State University, waiting patiently as he leaned against the brick wall. The walk from the apartment building to ESU wasn't an extraordinarily long one, but it was at least long enough to give Peter enough time to make a few calls on the way.

The first call he made was, of course, to his Aunt May, telling her he'd be gone for a while, due to his "other job". (Aunt May had known about Peter's double life nearly from the beginning, something Peter never realized until over a year into his tenure as Spider-Man. In May's own words, "There's nothing that goes on in this house that I don't know about.") Peter could hear the worry in May's voice as she spoke, but he could also tell that, ultimately, she had faith that he'd make it through whatever adversity was ahead of him.

The second call was to Mary Jane Watson - "MJ" as she was commonly called - Peter's _other_ best friend since childhood. Ever fiery, she made sure to give Peter an earful about how he'd better make it back alive, or else she and the rest of his "inner circle" would never be able to live with themselves. Still though, she seemed more irritated than scared for him, which was reassuring in its own way.

Finally, Peter called J. Jonah Jameson, his employer at the Daily Bugle. Peter told J.J. that he'd be going on vacation for the next two weeks - naturally leaving out the parts about the Holy Grail and the resurrected Asgardian shieldmaiden. Jolly Jonah was, of course, none too pleased by this unexpected news. Not in the mood to negotiate, Peter hung up in the middle of the indignant editor-in-chief's furious ranting, hoping that one of his coworkers would manage to calm Jonah down. He didn't bet on it, though.

That only left one more person Peter had to say goodbye to before devoting his full attention to the Grail War - Gwen Stacy.

This was going to be the hard part.

Just like he told Harry, Peter texted Gwen before he left the apartment, asking her to meet him at the entrance to ESU. And now, he waited, his back against the wall as he pondered just what fate held in store for him.

After a couple minutes, Peter spied a familiar, golden-haired figure approaching the entrance. Gwen was clad in her signature headband-trench coat-leather boots-black thigh-highs ensemble, as well as a dark purple blouse and matching skirt.

"Hey," Gwen greeted, her smile beaming as she drew close to Peter.

"Hey," Peter replied, smiling back at his girlfriend. And like that, it was if all the troubles posed by the Grail War had simply vanished from his life.

"Any reason you wanted to meet out here instead of the Bean?" Gwen inquired.

"Just wanted to walk over there with you," explained Peter as the couple began their stroll down the Manhattan sidewalk. "Y'know, discuss some stuff on the way. Lil' walk n' talk. Aaron Sorkin style."

"Are we talking West Wing Aaron Sorkin or Newsroom Aaron Sorkin?"

"What, is there a difference now? They're both fantastic!"

"Meh," Gwen remarked. "I preferred Newsroom."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" exclaimed Peter. "No way are you telling me you don't like West Wing!"

"I never said I don't like it!" Gwen protested, half-laughing, half-scoffing. "It's a great show and all, I'm just saying it's not my favorite!"

"Are you kidding? The West Wingis the greatest TV show of all time!" Peter declared confidently.

"Okay, but what about Breaking Bad?"

"Breaking Baddoesn't count," Peter stated matter-of-factly. "It's like The Godfather of TV, it's so good that nothing else can compete. It's just not fair to compare it to anything else."

"Whatever," Gwen chuckled, clearly not convinced by her boyfriend's argument. "What about Firefly though?"

"Also doesn't count! It's like the Princess Bride of TV. Same principle as Godfather, but for genre stuff."

"Okay, you've got me there," Gwen conceded. "You can't really beat Princess Bride."

"Exactly!" Peter exclaimed, smiling in self-satisfaction.

"Now what about The Wire though?" Gwen asked. "Is West Wing seriously better than The Wire?"

"Never seen The Wire."

"Ex- _cuse_ me?!" Gwen cried in disbelief. "You've never seen The Wire? Unbelievable. I can't believe I'm dating you."

"I can't believe I'm dating someone who thinks Newsroom is better than West Wing!" Peter retorted.

Gwen burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity the conversation had devolved into. Peter soon followed suit.

"Seriously though," Gwen began as the laughter died down. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Oh… right." All of a sudden, the thoughts of the Holy Grail War - all the dark, fearful thoughts Peter had been suppressing - came rushing back. _This is going to be fun,_ Peter thought.

"So, remember that magic tattoo thingy I showed you yesterday?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, what about it? You ever figure out what that thing's deal was?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. Here's the thing, though…"

 _One very complicated explanation later_

"So… lemme get this straight. You got that magic tattoo from a magical Holy Grail, which isn't the _real_ Holy Grail, because you've been chosen for a battle royale between mega-powerful wizards, with the fate of the world potentially in the balance. And also, you've accidentally summoned Thor's dead sister as your familiar. That about sums it up?"

"Pretty much," Peter sighed. His feet were starting to hurt from all the walking… had the Coffee Bean always been this far away?

"Ah. So in other words, just an average day for you, huh?" Gwen snarked.

"Okay, you say that, but this is my first time getting involved in anything this huge! I'm kinda freaking out over here."

"Now, you say _that_ ," countered Gwen, "But what about all those fights you've had against Doctor Doom, Loki, Magneto - and then there's all those alien invasions…"

Peter let out another, even deeper sigh. "Like I told Harry, those were all team-ups. They don't count."

"Well, this is a team-up too, isn't it?" Gwen asked, smiling carefreely. "You have Strange and his Servant backing you up, plus your little Valkyrie friend."

Peter paused for a moment, considering Gwen's point. "... Fair enough," he conceded. "But judging from what the Doc said, we'll be going up against world-class mages, and that's not even getting into what Servants we'll be fighting. This is the stuff of _literal_ legends we're talking about."

"You've punched the Norse god of mischief in the face," Gwen stated nonchalantly. "Multiple times. I think you'll be good."

Peter sighed once more, pausing for a few seconds. "Gwen, the way Doc talked about the Wars that came before this… they were bloodbaths." Peter's tone had turned grave, his words deadly serious. "People have died in this War, Gwen. Lots of people."

Gwen let out a small gasp, her eyes widening. She forced a smile, trying to stay upbeat. "Well, I'm pretty sure none of them had spider powers…"

"Maybe not, but they still knew everything there is to know about magic," Peter replied. "Whereas I know absolutely _nothing_ about magic, and am going into this completely unprepared." He groaned in frustration. "Have I ever told you how much I hate magic?"

"I'm aware," Gwen joked. "Peter, you don't need to worry. You make a regular habit of doing the impossible. You've taken on unbeatable threats before and won every time. You're the Amazing Spider-Man. Plus, you've got the Sorcerer Supreme and two legendary heroes on your side. I think it's safe to say you've got this."

Peter didn't say anything. He simply stopped, dead in his tracks, looking down at the ground. Gwen took notice, stopping herself and turning to face Peter.

Gwen's expression changed from cheerful to concerned. "Peter…" she said softly.

"I… I appreciate you trying to encourage me," Peter replied. His voice was practically a whisper. "I really, seriously do. But… and I know this sounds harsh - but I don't think you understand what kind of situation this is. Course, it's not like I really have any right to say that… I don't have any idea what I'm doing either. But still…

"Call it cliche," Peter said, his voice growing slightly louder, "But I have a bad feeling about this Grail War. Not just cause of the magic thing, either. And it's not just me doubting myself either, as hard as that is to believe. Something deep inside me is telling me that this War is bad news."

"What do you mean?" Gwen inquired in earnest.

Peter took a second to organize his thoughts. "My spider-sense. It's been going off ever since I summoned Lancer. Hasn't been very strong, the way it is when the danger is right in front of me. It's been… low, way in the background, barely even there. So it took me a while to even notice it was happening. But it's there. Even right now, I can just barely feel it buzzing, in the back of my skull." Peter tapped the back of his head to accentuate his statement.

"It's never acted like this before, Gwen," Peter continued. "I'm in uncharted territory here. I've fought magic before. I've fought the worst that this city, this whole _world_ has to offer. But this? This is something else entirely. Again, call it cliche, but I can _feel_ it. Every last fiber of my being is _screaming_ out to me that bad things are going to happen in this War."

"Do… do you really mean that?" Gwen asked, her voice growing faint.

"I do," answered Peter. "I'm sorry. And… there's something else, too. I had a dream last night. A nightmare. It felt… _off_. Like I was watching someone else's memories. It was… terrifying. I'm not sure exactly what it was, but I have a theory. And I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the Grail War. I know you see me as this brave, unstoppable hero who can always save the day… but I can already tell that this War is something like I've never faced before. So I hope you can understand where I'm coming from when I try to keep you and everyone else as far away from it as possible."

It took a few long, silent moments before Gwen responded. "You really aren't exaggerating, are you? This Grail War… it's on a whole different level from anything you've gone up against."

Peter simply nodded in response.

"And you really might die if you fight in this thing," Gwen continued. "Not in the usual sense, the way you risk your life when you fight ordinary villains. But there's a _real_ chance that you could die in this War."

"Yeah," Peter softly replied.

"Alright then," Gwen declared, her voice starting to regain confidence. "In that case, I've decided." Gwen flashed a bright, cheeky grin at Peter. "I'm going with you."

Peter's jaw practically hit the pavement when he heard Gwen's words. "What?!" he exclaimed incredulously. "Gwen, you can't be serious! You heard what I said about this War, do you really expect to fight in it?!"

Gwen gave an amused smirk. "Who said anything about fighting? I know there's no way I can fight on the level you can. I do know my limitations, believe it or not. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to help. You said you're going to Strange's Sanctum, right? I'm going with you."

"No way!" Peter shouted passionately. "Did you not hear me when I said that the people closest to a Master get targeted in this War? I don't want you, or anyone else to be in danger here! I know you're just trying to look out for me, but-"

"Exactly!" Gwen interrupted, equally impassioned. "I'm trying to look out for you here! I get that you're scared about this War. I get that there's a huge risk. That's why I want in! I'm not asking to fight with you, I'm not insane. But at least don't push me away! If this really is the biggest thing you've ever faced, then at least let me stay by your side through it!"

Peter was stunned by Gwen's words. She made a good argument. It was touching to know that she cared about him that much… but still, he couldn't afford to put her in danger.

"Gwen, I…"

Before Peter could finish his sentence though, he was interrupted by a paralyzing pain in his skull.

"Get away! Now!"

Gwen looked at Peter in confusion. "Peter, what's wrong?"

"Spider-sense! Run!"

Gwen didn't have time to react, however, before Peter was knocked back by an invisible force. Peter's body was lifted up and thrown into the alley behind where he and Gwen stood. Gwen shrieked in surprise as Peter was pinned helplessly against the wall.

A field of blue energy appeared before Peter - the same energy that appeared when Caster manifested. This was a Servant's work. Just like with Caster, the blue energy congealed into a humanoid shape, until the Servant's true form was revealed.

The Servant was clad in a black, skintight costume - not unlike the one Peter once wore. Over it, he wore a blood-red coat that went down past his knees. The Servant's costume was covered in bits of metallic armor here and there, including one around his neck that resembled a priest's collar. His skin was tanned, his features sharp and intimidating. His hair was a spiky, slicked-back mane, as white as snow. The Servant's eyebrows were the same shade of white, and his eyes were a pale gray.

But most pertinent to Peter's current situation, he was holding a pair of blades to Peter's neck and stomach.

"Unbelievable…" the Servant spoke, his voice rough and gravelly. "You're really supposed to be a Master? What's the matter, no Servant around to protect you? I swear, this whole War is a mess…" He let out a soft chuckle, and gave a cruel smirk. "Then again, I shouldn't really be complaining. Certainly makes my job easier."

The Servant pulled his right arm back, removing the blade from Peter's stomach and raising it up high, preparing to strike. Peter got a better look at the blade - it was jet black, covered in tiny, red hexagonal outlines. There was a yin-yang symbol carved into the hilt, with a white cone shape jutting out of it, and the handle was wrapped in black leather. The blade was curved, like a scimitar. It was too short to be a proper sword, but too long to be a knife… a short sword, then?

All these facts were completely irrelevant, however, in light of the fact that it was currently being aimed at Peter's head.

 _I really, really hate magic,_ Peter thought.


	9. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A Showdown in Scarlet

When faced with the imminent threat of being stabbed through the head by an enemy Heroic Spirit, it is important for one to be able to think fast, if one wishes to avoid certain death. Thankfully, after five long, hard years of crime-fighting, Peter Parker had much experience in the art of thinking fast. In fact, it could easily be considered one of the most useful abilities he possessed - along with the proportional strength and agility of a spider, of course.

Peter quickly raised up his legs, slamming his feet into the red-coated Servant's chest with all the strength he could muster - which was quite a bit of strength, all things considered. The enemy Servant was sent flying back into the opposite wall, freeing Peter from his grasp. Landing with the grace typical of a human spider, Peter wasted no time in in restraining the Servant. Peter fired streams of webbing at the white-haired man using his web-shooters, covering his whole body in the substance and sticking him to the brick wall. The Servant's grey eyes had grown wide with shock. Clearly, he hadn't seen this turn of events coming.

His eyes burning with equal parts determination and terror, Peter turned his head towards Gwen, who still stood at the end of the alleyway, paralyzed by the events she'd just witnessed.

"Gwen! _Run!_ " Peter shouted urgently.

"R-right!" Gwen nervously affirmed, nodding her head. "See you on the other side of this!" she yelled to Peter as she took off.

 _Assuming there's gonna be another side of this at all…_ Peter thought to himself. _No. I'm gonna make it out of here alive. For Gwen, for Aunt May… for everyone I have to protect!_

 _Sheesh. That was cheesy even for me… good thing I didn't say that out loud._

Just as Gwen ran away from the scene, one of the Servant's short swords pierced the coat of webbing, beginning to slice through the makeshift prison. Peter acted quickly, leaping up and rapidly scaling the wall behind him, making his way to the rooftop of the building.

 _Judging from everything Strange said,_ Peter thought, _Chances are that Servant is only after me. Up here, away from the streets, there'll be fewer civilians in danger… and nobody to see me expose my secret identity. Then again, I did just use my web-shooters in my civvies… so that ship has sailed, I guess. Still, Gwen's safe, and that's what matters. Now, it's time to take care of Mr. Redcoat here._

Peter hurriedly discarded his civilian clothes, revealing his Spider-Man costume, and donned the mask, gloves and boots tucked in the pouches of his (surprisingly spacious) utility belt. Just as Peter finished changing into his super-suit, the white-haired Servant leapt onto the rooftop to challenge the web-slinger.

"Well, that explains your strength," the man in the red coat noted as he studied his adversary's new garb. "I take it you're one of those 'superhero' types?" He spoke the word 'superhero' with disdain, practically spitting the term.

"The amazing Spider-Man, at your service!" Spidey proclaimed with melodramatic bombast, taking an exaggerated bow. "Don't tell me you've never heard of me - I'm kind of a big deal 'round these parts."

The Servant scoffed, giving a smirk that expressed amusement and derision alike. "New in town, I'm afraid," he snarked. "I'm not supposed to be impressed by a little kid in his pajamas, am I?"

Spider-Man took a fighting stance. "Big talk coming from a guy who looks like he got lost on the way to the next Final Fantasy."

The man in red's smirk turned into an irritated scowl, as he brandished his twin blades in kind. "Are you gonna stand here and make jokes all day, or are we actually going to _fight?_ "

"Why not both?" Spidey quipped in response. "It's kinda my signature."

"Suit yourself," the Servant groaned. Without warning, he dashed at Spider-Man, practically moving at the speed of light, slashing at the web-head with one of his short swords. Thanks to his spider-sense, Spidey managed to avoid the strike by a hair's breadth. The Servant, however, wasn't about to let up.

The man in red unleashed a flurry of slashes at Spider-Man. Peter narrowly evaded each and every blow, ducking and weaving out of the way, but it was only just barely enough. Some of the attacks were close enough to graze Spider-Man's costume, leaving tiny slash marks on the fabric of the suit. This Servant, whoever he was, was fast. Faster than any of the Sinister Six. He was as fast as Peter - maybe even faster.

After surviving the white-haired man's onslaught, Peter delivered a swift kick to the Servant's face. He was fast, but he could still be caught off guard. Good to know. In the instant that the man in red was staggered, Spider-Man shot a pair of web-lines at the Servant's blades, yanking them out of his hands and tossing them onto the ground.

Spider-Man rushed at the Servant, readying a right hook to the man in red's face. But in the blink of an eye, the Heroic Spirit recovered, catching the wall-crawler's fist mid-flight. Still processing the Servant's lightning-fast movements, Peter noticed the man in red's mouth moving slightly, as if he was murmuring something under his breath. Before Peter knew it, another black-bladed sword appeared in the Servant's free hand, an exact replica of the last one.

The Servant pulled Spider-Man in, thrusting the blade at his neck, but the web-head managed to break free of the man in red's grip, side-stepping the attack. Peter wasted no time in delivering a counterattack, throwing a swift punch at the Servant's face. This time, the man in red wasn't quick enough to dodge.

Spidey threw another punch, this time to the Heroic Spirit's gut. Another hit. Before Spider-Man could strike a third time, however, the Servant conjured another copy of his white blade in a burst of blue energy. He slashed at the web-slinger with his newly summoned weapon, interrupting the hero's attack. Spider-Man backflipped away from his opponent before the Servant could assault him with another combo of slashes and stabs.

"So, lemme get this straight," Spidey spoke, landing on the edge of the rooftop. "I have to spend good money on new web fluid every month, but you can magically create new swords? Now that just ain't right."

The Servant didn't respond, simply letting out a groan of annoyance. The Heroic Spirit dashed towards Spider-Man, preparing to slash at him once again, but the hero flipped over his head, firing a pair of web shots at the Servant as he flew through the air.

The man in red cleaved the web shots apart in midair, then rushed at Spider-Man once more. Spidey vaulted over the Servant yet again, unleashing a barrage of web-bullets on the white-haired man as he landed.

"You know, it's not polite to try to kill somebody without introducing yourself first!" Spider-Man quipped as the hammered the buttons on his web-shooters.

The Servant expertly cut the rapid projectiles to ribbons as they flew at him, then flung his white-bladed sword at the wall-crawler like a throwing knife. Spider-Man rolled out of the blade's way as it sailed by, while the Servant conjured another replacement sword.

Peter decided to put his adversary's reflexes to the test. Pushing his superhuman speed to the limit, Spider-Man darted and leapt around the arena, zigging and zagging all around the Servant, firing web-bullets at him all the while.

"At least tell me which Servant you are!" Spidey remarked as he made his erratic assault. "You seem awfully fond of swords, Red… what was that class? Blader? Slasher? Ah, Saber! You're Saber, ain'tcha?"

Without missing a beat, the white-haired Servant deflected each and every web-shot, before flinging both his short swords at the wall-crawler. The blades seemed to defy gravity, homing in on Spider-Man like heat-seeking missiles.

As the swords flew at him, Peter was immediately reminded of the Green Goblin's signature Razor Bat weapons. As such, he employed the usual technique he used to evade Razor Bats - he twisted around in midair, narrowly avoiding the blades, then caught the projectiles out of the sky using his webs.

With all his might, Spider-Man spun around in the air once again. Not to evade, however - this time, he was flinging the Servant's blades right back at him. As Spidey loosed the swords, however, the Servant quickly summoned another pair of replacement blades, effortlessly parrying the flying weapons.

 _Okay_ , thought Peter. _This guy might be a problem._

"Y'know, I take it back," Spidey joked, "Everything about you is screaming Assassin to me. The throwing blades, the Matrix-wannabe look… that's gotta be it, right?"

Again, the Servant didn't bother responding. He simply threw another blade towards Spider-Man, which the web-slinger deftly sidestepped. The man in red seemed to have predicted that move, however, because the moment Spidey evaded the flying sword, the Servant was rushing at the web-head with another slash.

 _Crap!_ Peter thought as he ducked under the Servant's strike. _That reaction was way too fast… he knew where I'd be before I even dodged. Either he made a lucky guess… or he has some kind of precognition. Just like my Spider-Sense…_

The thought was worrying, but Peter's main concern right now was the battle. Forgoing any more elaborate maneuvers, Spidey went for a simpler, more direct kind of counterattack. Focusing all the spider-strength he could muster, Spider-Man rose up and readied his fist with a single, swift gesture, and delivered a tremendous right hook to the Servant's face.

The punch was a direct hit. The man in red was sent flying backwards, but he regained his footing, landing in the center of the rooftop. The Servant let out a frustrated grunt.

Suddenly, the white-haired man leapt up, dozens of feet in the air - a greater feat than Peter had ever accomplished. When the Servant finally landed, he perched gracefully atop a water tank several rooftops way. A burst of blue energy appeared around him, meaning he'd conjured another weapon. Using his superhuman senses, Peter just barely managed to make out what the Servant was doing.

The man in red had indeed summoned a weapon, but it was not another short sword. It was a long, slender, instrument - curved, and jet-black in color.

A bow.

 _Ah,_ thought Peter. _Archer, then._

Archer summoned another weapon in his free hand. Long, silver, and pointed, it almost resembled a sword. But as the Archer readied his bow, the weapon's purpose became unmistakable. It was an arrow. An arrow aimed straight at the friendly neighborhood web-slinger.

 _Hoo boy._

Spidey made a mad dash off the rooftop, leaping off the side as Archer loosed his arrow. Spider-Man fired a web-line at the nearest building, swinging from it as he searched for a place to land. As the wall-crawler soared through the New York skyline, more arrows flew by him, leaving trails of blue energy in their wake.

All of a sudden, Peter began falling in mid-swing. One of Archer's arrows had severed his web-line. Before he could shoot another web-line, however, Spider-Man was assailed by a series of arrows soaring at him. Spidey managed to dodge the arrows as he fell, flipping and twirling in the air.

However, this all seemed to be part of Archer's strategy - Peter was so concerned with evading the arrows that he failed to notice that he was hurtling straight into the rooftop beneath him. Peter became astutely aware of this fact, however, the moment he felt the sensation of concrete slamming into his face.

Peter's Spider-Sense was blaring as he got up off the ground. As soon as he finished brushing himself off, he looked up to find one of Archer's arrows flying right at him. Just as he prepared to leap out of the way, however, something unexpected happened.

A blur of motion rushed into Peter's field of vision, and the arrow was struck down by a burst of golden light. Standing before Peter was Lancer, shield raised, holding her spear tight. Brunnhilde turned her head towards Spider-Man, and greeted her Master with a warm, confident smile.

"Spider-Man," Lancer spoke. "Pardon my saying so, but you look as though you could use some assistance."

"Lancer!" Peter exclaimed, both surprise and relief apparent in his tone. "Thanks for the help, but, uh… how'd you know I was here?"

"Funny story, actually," Lancer replied. "I didn't. Caster and I got bored of sitting around the Sanctum all day, so we went out in search of more exciting matters. And it would seem I've found one!"

The Valkyrie punctuated her final statement with a wide, toothy grin. Her exuberance was almost childlike, despite the fact that she was about to engage in a fight to the death.

"Well, far be it from me to complain," Spider-Man commented. "I'm happy to have all the help I can get with this guy. Where's Caster."

"I'm afraid I don't know," Lancer admitted, shaking her head. "We went our separate ways. But I shall devote all my strength to defeating whatever foe besets you!"

 _Guess Thor's sense of drama runs in the family,_ Peter noted mentally.

"Glad to hear it," Spidey responded. "We're going against Archer."

"Yes. I surmised as such," replied Lancer. "What with all the arrows."

 _Did… did she just use sarcasm? I didn't know Asgardians had sarcasm…_

"I shall hold him off for now," Lancer continued. "I suggest you survey the area, in search of Archer's Master. I cannot guarantee that they will be nearby, but it's worth a try at least."

"Okay, but… you sure you can take care of him alone?" Peter asked, concern in his voice.

Lancer chuckled softly, giving an amused smirk. "Can I take care of him," she repeated. Brunnhilde twirled her spear, entering a fighting stance. "Have a little more faith in your Servant."

Peter smiled under his mask. "You're the boss. Well, technically I'm the boss, but hey, semantics!"

And with that, Lancer leapt high into the air, rushing towards Archer and drawing his attention away from her Master. Spidey took off as well, shooting a web-line onto a nearby building, and swinging high above the Manhattan rooftops.

 _C'mon, c'mon…_ Peter thought to himself as he climbed ever higher into the sky, looking down at the buildings below. _If I were a mysterious wizard-type person who wanted me dead, where would I be…?_

Suddenly, something - or rather, _someone_ \- caught Peter's eye. He sighted a bright flash of red in the distance, several buildings away from the dueling Servants. This figure in red was the only other person Peter spied among the rooftops - besides Lancer and Archer, of course.

 _Jackpot,_ thought Peter. _Hello there, enemy Master… I think. I hope. Otherwise, this is gonna be awkward… so, business as usual for me, in other words._

Spider-Man descended, falling rapidly down to the rooftop below. He landed gracefully behind the figure in red - who, upon closer inspection, was clearly female. She was about five feet tall, dressed in a large red duster - not unlike the coat worn by her Archer. Her hair was long, black and wavy, with a pair of twintails tied by black ribbons. She didn't seem to notice the web-slinger's arrival.

"So, what's a colorfully dressed young lady like yourself hanging out alone on a rooftop?" Spider-Man asked, announcing his presence to the potential Master.

The black-haired girl didn't respond. She simply turned around, doing so with violent speed, and stretched her right arm out towards the wall-crawler. In the blink of an eye, an orb of amorphous, blood-red energy formed at the girl's fingertips, shooting out like a bullet towards Spider-Man and leaving red sparks in its wake.

"Whoa!" Spidey yelped as he ducked under the crimson blast, alerted by his spider-sense. _Okay,_ Peter thought. _Looks like I was right on the money. That's definitely magic._

The black-haired girl scowled, gritting her teeth in anger as she fired several more red orbs at Spider-Man in quick succession. Thankfully, Spidey had little trouble dodging the attacks - the Master lacked the inhuman speed possessed by her Servant.

"Sheesh!" Peter exclaimed, landing in his trademark three-point crouch after evading the magical barrage. "Do you greet all superheroes this way, or is your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man an exception?"

The Master in red raised an eyebrow in confusion. As she halted her offensive momentarily, Peter was allowed to get a better look at her. She was young - a few years younger than Peter. Only a high schooler, probably. She had blue eyes, and Asian features. Under the duster, she wore a red turtleneck sweater, emblazoned with a white cross design right below the neck. She was also clad in a black skirt, a pair of black thigh-high socks, and a simple pair of brown leather shoes. Peter couldn't help but be reminded of Gwen by her fashion sense.

"Spider-Man?" The girl repeated incredulously, her gone thick with disdain. "Archer said you were a superhero, but is that _really_ what you call yourself?" The Master murmured something under her breath, inaudible to the web-slinger. Her English was flawless, but she had a slight hint of an accent.

Spidey stood up, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. "No respect… no respect, I tells ya!" He looked up at the young Master. "You know, you really need to teach that edgelord Archer of yours some manners… it ain't polite, trying to murder a guy in broad daylight before he can even change into his long underwear!"

The girl's eyes went wide as her face became ever-so-slightly redder. "Th-that wasn't my idea!" she protested, crossing her arms defensively. She was embarrassed. Somehow, Peter had managed to strike a nerve. "That _idiot_ thought it would be a good idea to attack now… something about the element of surprise, stuff like that is normal in this city… I have no idea why I let him convince me!"

 _That idiot?_ Peter thought, replaying the rival Master's words in his head. _Does she mean Archer? Or somebody else?_

"Well, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones…" Spider-Man replied. "As long as you call off your Servant. There's no reason we can't all be friends here. We could all work together to win this War… but only if you and Stabby McRedcoat stop trying to kill me and my partner. What do you say, Miss…"

"Tohsaka," the girl answered, her flustered panic quickly replaced by an air of haughty confidence. She smiled smugly at Spider-Man, like a queen looking down on her lowly subjects. "My name is Rin Tohsaka. I am the woman who's going to _win_ this Holy Grail War. And I'm not interested in associating myself with an undignified clown like you!"

Something about the girl's words - the proud condescension, the self-assured determination, the venomous disdain with which she spoke to him - it sent chills down Peter's spine.

 _Damn, this girl's scary… why is she reminding me so much of Gwen?_

"Alright, Rin…" Spidey began, entering a fighting stance. "I really don't wanna have to hit a girl… but have it your way!"

Spider-Man leapt towards Rin, readying his right arm for a spider-strength powered punch. _She may be a wizard,_ Peter thought, _But she's still just a teenage girl. One good punch should be all it takes to knock her out… then I'm free to help Brunnhilde tackle Archer._

As the web-slinger dashed towards the girl in red, something unexpected happened. Spider-Man threw his fist towards the young Master, with the kind of force only spider-strength could muster… and then, the punch came to a sudden halt.

She had caught it. Spidey's fist was enclosed in Rin's own, as if caught in a vice. Rin's hand, and the sleeve behind it, were covered in glowing blue lines, like the circuitry of a computer. Rin looked at Spider-Man with a devilish grin, the kind that meant that further misfortune was sure to follow.

Before Peter could truly process what had just happened, he was suddenly struck with a massive blow, as if he had been run over by an 18-wheeler truck. But it wasn't a truck that had hit him - it was Rin's other fist, covered in the same glowing lines as its twin.

Peter's spider-sense blared like a siren as he was sent flying by the impact of the girl in red's strike. The punch had sent him hurtling off the edge of the rooftop, and Spider-Man now found himself falling rapidly towards the Manhattan street below.

 _Well,_ Peter thought to himself, _It would seem that I've just gotten my spandex-clad butt kicked by a teenage girl in pigtails. If that ain't just the definition of the Parker Luck…_


End file.
